


The Wicked Day

by StorytellerKnight



Series: King Arthur Star Wars Style [1]
Category: Arthurian Mythology, Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-03-13 17:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18945274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StorytellerKnight/pseuds/StorytellerKnight
Summary: An overlay of Arthurian characters/plotlines/setings onto Star Wars plotlines/settings."Behold the wicked day of destiny, where father and son meet for the first time and know each other to be enemies."A captured prince on a desperate mission for a rebellion about to crumble.  A hero's son raised in secret as a simple fisherman on a backwater planet.  A smuggler in over her head, ready to make one last desperate bid to protect her home.  A pair of droids return to their masters, bringing with them the last promise of a forgotten prophecy to wake a sleeping king.  Threads of fate intertwine, bringing together this unlikely group of heroes who may just have what it takes to save the galaxy.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Several years ago I was reading a modern Arthurian retelling where the Merlin character waved his hand at someone and said 'these are not the droids you're looking for' and I immediately started pondering what an mashup between Star Wars and the Arthurian mythos would look like. My goal with this story was to keep as close to the Star Wars movie plots and the plots of the Arthurian stories I chose and weave the two of them together into something fun and new.

Prince Gaheris of Lothian sat alone in his cabin, staring at the hilts of the twin Caliburn swords.  The swords had long been the sacred and cherished weapons of the Knights of Avalon.  Caliburn blades had once been forged on the mythical planet of Avalon.  There the weapons had been infused with power by the knights who had once dwelt on the planet- magic that only responded to the hand the blade was forged for.  A Knight of Avalon would only receive two Caliburn swords over their lifetime. The first was given when the youth was chosen to serve as a squire to a Knight Master.  The second was given when the squire was knighted by the Lady of the Lake

The set Gaheris had hadn't been made for a squire or a Knight but for an infant too small to curl a hand around the hilt.  The Knights had been a dying breed nineteen years ago.  The Emperor may have only just begun his war against their order, but the knights had had the foresight to realize that there may not be enough of them left to create one Caliburn, let alone two, when the child came of age.

They had been correct in their foresight.  Five years ago, there hadn't even been a knight alive to take the child on as a squire.  Hope was fading fast among the rebellion, which was why Gaheris was taking such a risk in moving the Caliburn blades.

* * *

_The evening air was crisp as Prince Gaheris, Senate Representative of the Planet Lothian, made his way down the crowded streets.  The planet Rome did little more than serve as the seat of the Empire and the Imperial Senate Representatives from all across the Galaxy gathered on Rome when the Senate was in session._

_Not that the Senate could do more than bicker amongst themselves these days.  The Emperor had the real power.  Of course no planet in the galaxy would dare challenge him as long as they had the right to send a representative to Rome to bicker with all the other representatives.  It made them feel as though they were a part of the process._

_A large, broad shouldered figure peeled away from the nearest alley to walk side-by-side with Gaheris.  A quick glance confirmed that it was his oldest brother, Gawain, walking next to him._

_“I've been followed,” Gaheris said softly.  The House of Lothian had long been under suspicion within the Empire.  Their mother, Queen Morgause, had been labeled a traitor to the Empire.  She had fled Lothian with her four sons, hiding on the planet Cornwall—beyond the Empire's ability to hunt her down._

_Morgause had kept her sons close, refusing to allow them to leave Cornwall and join the rebellion until after they turned twenty.  Gawain had left first and had immediately joined the rebellion.  Agravain stayed on Cornwall to help Morgause with the fishery.  Gaheris and his twin Gareth had left at the same time.  Gareth had joined the rebellion.  Gaheris, however, had publicly renounced his mother and brothers and returned to Lothian to serve his father as a representative to the Senate.  Publicly, of course, Lothian was as loyal to the Empire as any planet.  Privately, it did all it could to help the rebellion as a small, weaponless planet under constant scrutiny could._

_“We've taken care of it,” Gawain said._

_“What are you thinking?” Gaheris hissed.  “It's too dangerous to call such a blatant attention to ourselves.”_

_“It doesn't matter anymore,” Gawain said.  “You're not going to have a place here much longer.  The Emperor is planning to disband the Senate.”_

_“So the old blighted fool is finally going senile,” Gaheris said.  “He'll never be able to control the galaxy without at least a show of democracy.”_

_“There's a weapon.”_

_“What kind of weapon?”_

_“We're not entirely certain.  Cywyllog returned from Windsor claiming…claiming horrors untold.  Isolde isn’t certain she believes her, but she’s allowing Cywyllog to take a small team to Colonge to try and steal the technical plans for this thing.”_

_“That’s madness,” Gaheris said.  “They’ll never get out of there alive.”_

_“That’s not the goal,” Gawain said.  “Cywyllog has a defected Imperial technician who insists she can get them in and get them to the server storing this information.  That’s where things start to get tricky.  According to this technician, the plans can only be transmitted out.  If they try to carry them out, the fill will be corrupted._

_“This is the first part of your mission,” Gawain said, pressing a small disc into Gaheris’ hand.  “That contains coordinates where Cywyllog and her team will transmit the plans to.  Be there at the assigned time to receive it and then run like hell.  Our hope is that the Empire will be too distracted with the chaos on Colonge to notice you.”_

_“And the second part?”_

_“Go to Cornwall.  Find Morgan le Fay.  Convince her to train our cousin as her squire.”  Gawain shifted the pack on his back and passed it to Gaheris.  Through the cloth, Gaheris could feel the shape of the two Caliburn hilts press against his back._

_“Le Fay still follows the olds ways.  She'll never—”_

_“There's no one else, Gaheris,” Gawain said.  “We've looked everywhere in the Galaxy.  They're all dead.  She's the last one.  You must impress this upon her, Gaheris.  If she refuses, we are without hope.”_

_“Am I to bring her to the rebellion?”_

_“No.  Give her whatever information you received from Colonge and the swords and leave them to find their own way.  You are to return to Lothian.”_

_Gaheris didn't know what tipped him off to the true meaning of his brother's words.  Maybe it was something in Gawain's tone or posture.  Or maybe it was because Gaheris already knew what it meant when the rebellion pushed you in the opposite direction.  He wasn't supposed to survive this, and it was better to go down on his way back to Lothian than to lead the Empire to le Fay or the rebellion._

_“I understand,” Gaheris said._

_“If there was another way, Gaheris, you know—”_

_“No, Gawain, I'm honored.  Truly.”  Gaheris stopped walking and Gawain turned to face him.  “Safe journey back to... wherever you're going.  Tell Gareth...”  Gaheris stopped, unsure what last message he wanted to give to his twin brother._

_“I will,” Gawain said.  “May the Force be with you, Gaheris.”_

_“You too, Gawain.”_

* * *

 “Your highness.”

Gaheris started before remembering the commlink in his ear.  “Go ahead, captain.”

“We're approaching the planet Cornwall.”

“And the Imperial Star Destroyer?”

“Almost upon us.”

“Very good, captain.  Take the hit at the first opportunity.  Make it look believable.”

“Yes, you're highness.”

“Is that AC unit clear on my instructions?”

“It'll come through, highness. I've never known that droid to fail a directive.  Stubborn little thing.”

“Stubborn is exactly what we need right now,” Gaheris murmured.  “Well, captain, it's been a pleasure.”

“An honor, highness.”

Gaheris turned the commlink off and removed it from his ear.  He placed the device on his desk and then moved his hand over a small disc.  It was all that remained of the transmission they had received from Cywyllog and her team.  All logs of the transmission had been deleted from the ship's computer.  Gaheris had the only copy of the technical plans of this weapon outside the Empire. Their only hope.

His gaze turned to the Caliburn swords resting on his bed. Well, not their only hope.  Not if you believed in ancient prophecies.  And Gaheris did.  He had to.

An explosion rocked the ship.  Gaheris stumbled and fell to the ground.  He quickly scrambled to his feet, tucked the disc into his belt and wrapped the Caliburn hilts up in a blanket.  He had to get to that AC unit before the storm troopers boarded the ship.

* * *

 

**Notes:**

_Caliburn is another name for Excalibur. I decided to use it here as the type of sword Excalibur is._

_Lothian is one of the kingdoms that rebelled against Arthur after he was crowned king. It made sense to me to allow the country to keep its rebel roots and take the place of Alderaan in the story._

_Leia's character was one I went back and forth on before eventually deciding on Gaheris. But my reasons are tied to my use of the Beaumains story, which I'll get into later._


	2. A Bard and a Mechanic

The droid D-NDN, or Dinadan as he was often called by children too young to make out all those letters, had not been built for adventure.  He was a BARD unit—designed for childcare and storytelling.  Activities that had been designed to be performed in a comfortable—stable!—room that wasn't on the verge of being blown up.

Another explosion rocked the ship.  Dinadan stumbled, but internal stabilizers kept the droid from falling.  Which was good, because a fall would have cracked his outer casing.  His outer casing was made of a flexible glass material that was sturdy enough, but one never could be too careful.  As one of his primary directives was the education of children on a human planet, Dinadan's electrical components were designed to look and act as much like a human's as possible, although he could rearrange them as needed to replicate the internal arrangement of any biped species.  While his glass casing was see-through, Dinadan often used his internal lighting system (installed so he could use colorful lights to match his storytelling) to mask the view of his internal components.  Right now he was using orange lighting.  Although, if the situation grew any more dire, Dinadan would change to white and try to blend in with the walls.

There was another explosion.  This one didn't rock the ship, but it was followed by the horrible, awful sound of electrical equipment powering down.

“That's it.  That was the main reactor. We're dead.”

Dinadan's companion, the small astromech droid AC-LN, didn't answer.  AC-LN had never been one to chatter, but in this case Dinadan was certain it was guilt.  After all, it was AC-LN's fault he was in this mess.  Dinadan was a BARD droid.  He was supposed to keep his feet firmly planted on solid ground and teach children or tell stories.  He was not supposed to be gallivanting off on some half-cocked adventure that was going to turn him into stardust.  Space Opera was AC-LN's game, not Dinadan's.  Yet for some reason the humans of Lothian considered himself and AC-LN to be a pair.  Where the astromech droid went, the BARD droid went as well.

And now they were heading right towards being scrap pieces floating in space.

“What was his highness thinking?  Traveling through restricted territory like that?  Surely he knew the Imperial Fleet would never stand for it.”

AC-LN let loose a mixture of buzzes, low whistles and clicks.  Dinadan's programming translated the noises as the astromech spoke: “What would you know of the prince's mindset?”

“Using my catalog of several billion epic tales, myths and other stories, I have determined the character archetype that best fits Prince Gaheris' actions.  And traveling through restricted territory is an action such an archetype would never take if he or she was in the right state of mind.”

AC-LN made a noise Dinadan's programming didn't recognize.  Sometimes the BARD droid was certain the astromech was making its own language just so Dinadan wouldn't be able to understand it.

They were odd mechanical creations, these astromech droids.  Made up of four thin poles about the length of a human forearm all attached to a spherical center twice the size of a man's head.  The droids had been designed for in motion repairs of any sort of spaceship imaginable.  The four arms had a full range of motion around the spherical body and had access to an insurmountable number of tools housed in the round form.  Along with a hand with four fingers and a full range of motion, each arm also had a hook, magnet, and wheels so the droid could move about easily and attach to a ship's hull in any number of ways.

Currently AC-LN was using three of its legs to roll across the smooth hallway of the ship.  The fourth arm was drawn up close to its body.  A small telescope had popped out of the top of AC-LN's round body so it could see infrared imagery, although the astromech didn't need to do that as sensors in its limbs would have kept it from running into anything or anyone.

A loud boom echoed through the hallways.  Dinadan looked up—his internal lights changing from orange to white.  “What was that?”

“Keep moving,” AC-LN said as it continued to wheel down the hallway.  Dinadan didn't move.  He kept his gaze on the ceiling, trying to discern what those noises were.  A moment later, there was a loud boom followed by lots of softer electrical screams.  Dinadan would recognize those sounds anywhere.  They were a critical part of his storyteller programing.

“A firefight!” he shrieked.  “We’re under attack!  We only spent a short amount of time in restricted space to do repairs!  Why are they attacking us!”  He finally looked down to see that his companion had left him behind.  “AC-LN!  Wait!  Wait for me!”

He shuffled after the astromech as fast as his joints would take him.  But AC-LN was too fast and too far away.  Dinadan didn’t know how he would catch the other droid if the astromech wouldn’t wait for him.

They were moving through the smaller hallways that wound through the middle of the ship.  Dinadan liked that.  He could hear the firefight going on in the main hallway—near the docking door if Dinadan was triangulating the sounds correctly.  But they were on the move.  Moving… closer!

“Wait!  AC-LN!  Wait!  You’re going the wrong way!”

He knew the astromech could hear him.  AC-LN had wonderful sensors that could pick up and distinguish just about every noise made on the ship.  It likely knew they were moving towards the firefight—had likely known long before Dinadan.  And yet it stubbornly kept moving forward.

Dinadan didn’t know if AC-LN had developed these thrill-seeking tendencies from decades of being at the center of attention or if it was programed into it.  Either way, Dinadan didn’t like it at all.

Far too soon, they were in sight of the main hallway.  All Dinadan could see were the red laser blasts flying back and forth through the opening.  AC-LN didn’t even hesitate.  Its fourth arm joined the other three on the ground as it lowered its round body as close to the floor as it could.  Then the little astromech crossed the main hallway into the next side branch, rolling right under the blaster fire.

“AC-LN!” Dinadan yelled as he was forced to pause at the entrance to the main hallway.  He couldn’t glide under the laser blasts like his companion could.  “AC-LN, wait!  Don’t leave me you worthless, selfish little thrill-seeker.”

He looked back and forth along the main hallway.  The small contingent of Imperial Stormtroopers, in their easily distinguishable white armor, were making short work of the cruise ship’s crew members.  It was a futile battle.  A few trained soldiers were allowed on board the ship to defend against smugglers or pirates.  But these were young men who, while trained, had never been in a real fight.  Against Imperial Stormtroopers, they didn’t stand a chance.

One or two got in a shot that took down a stormtrooper.  But far more bodies of the Lothians lined the floor than stormtroopers.  Soon the Lothians were retreating again and the stormtroopers were running after them.  Now that he had a clear path, Dinadan shuffled across the hallway, careful to avoid the bodies.

“AC-LN!  Where’d you go!” Dinadan shouted, looking around the dimly lit hall.  It led down to the escape pods.  It appeared that the area had lost power, except for the floor lights that directed passengers and crew members towards the pods.  AC-LN was nowhere in sight. 

“AC-LN!” Dinadan called again, turning in a full circle, and looking into the even smaller hallways that branched off from this one.  After nearly completing his circle, Dinadan finally caught sight of the astromech.  It was standing on all four of its legs and had completely extended them so it stood close to the height of a human.

A young human male stood next to AC-LN.  The man—likely Lothian considering the circumstances—didn’t appear to be part of the crew.  The white outfit he wore wasn’t anything like the black and blue uniforms of the crew-members.  Perhaps he was one of the ambassadors the ship was carrying?

The man, who had been speaking to AC-LN, turned to glance over his shoulder.  “Message complete,” the man said.  AC-LN buzzed and lowered itself down so it was half the height of the man.  “Come on.”

AC-LN switched back to three legs and rolled toward Dinadan.  The man followed the astromech, a hand on the blaster hanging on his belt.

“What’s going on?” Dinadan asked.  “I hope you have a good reason for leaving me like that.”

“Who’s this?” the man asked.

“Oh, excuse me sir.  I am D-NDN, BARD unit.  I’m also quite capable in—”

“Partner,” AC-LN buzzed.

“Don’t you dare speak such slander against me!” Dinadan snapped.

“We stay together,” AC-LN added.

“Fine, just go,” the man said.  “Get to the escape pod.”

“Escape pods?” Dinadan asked.  “What have you gotten us into now?”

“Secret mission,” AC-LN said.

“What nonsense,” Dinadan scoffed.

They arrived at the escape pods and the human opened the nearest remaining pod and waved the droids in.  “Go on.”

“Excuse me, sir, but droids aren’t allowed in the escape pods,” Dinadan said.

The man drew his blaster and turned on Dinanda in one swift motion.  “You can either get in the pod or I’ll blast you apart myself.  I can’t have anyone else on this ship knowing what happened to your partner.”

“Very good, sir,” Dinadan said, ducking down into the escape pod.

“You know what to do?” the man asked.

“Accident,” AC-LN buzzed.

“Accident,” Dinadan asked.  “What do you mean accident?  Accidentally setting off—”

The man reached around Dinadan and muted the BARD droid’s voice.  “You can turn him back on when you reach the planet.”

“Why?” AC-LN asked.

The man shushed the astromech and looked down the hallway they had come down.  Dinadan’s sensors were able to pick up the sound of footsteps coming their way.  Heavy footsteps that likely meant Imperial Stormtroopers.  Why wasn’t the man getting to the pod with them so they could leave before the stormtroopers arrived?

“There’s one!” a voice yelled.

“It’s the prince!  Set for stun!” another added.

The man—Prince Gaheris of Lothian if the stormtrooper was correct—turned and fired his blaster at the Imperial troops.  The stormtroopers returned fire.  Dinadan wanted to shout at AC-LN to blast them off, but of course he couldn’t.

“Don’t fire upon the next pod that jettisons,” Dinadan heard someone say despite the firefight.  “It could be the prince and Lord Ursus wants him alive.”

A blue stun blast struck the prince.  The man stumbled into the pod’s control panel.  That was when AC-LN jettisoned the escape pod.  The airlock slammed shut and the pod blasted off from the ship.  Through the small window of the pod, Dinadan watched the Lothian ship and the much larger Imperial Star Destroyer that had docked to it quickly spiraled away as the pod crashed towards the planet.

_Crashed._

Dinadan wanted to ask AC-LN how rough their landing was going to be—his casing being delicate and all.  But of course he couldn’t.  And with the way things were going, Dinadan couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever speak again.

* * *

**Notes:**

_I had a lot of options for C-3PO's character where the legend was concerned and I struggled to find the right fit. Lucan the Butler and Arthur's chamberlain Ulfius were the two big contenders, but in the end I kept coming back to the moment in Jedi where Threepio tells the Ewoks their story and decided to lean into the character being a bard instead of a protocol droid. Besides, there is probably no character in the legend more put upon than Sir Dinadan and that lined up with Threepio perfectly._

_As for R2-D2, there was only Accolon. Sir Accolon is most well known for stealing Excalibur and bringing it to Morgan Le Fay and that lined right up with a droid who brings stolen plans to Obi-Wan Kenobi._


	3. Darth Ursus

Gaheris tried to blink to make that white haze above him come back into focus.  But for the time being the stun had made it impossible for him to even manage that.  All he could do was lie on the ground and listen.

“No, we’ve got him.  Blow the pod.”

_No_ , Gaheris thought.  All that work to make sure the plans and swords got down to the planet and the damn pod was going to be blown up anyway.

“No.  Never mind then.  Let it go.”

Hope filled him again as the Stormtroopers hauled Gaheris to his feet and cuffed his hands in front of him.  The pod must have gotten out of range before it could be fired upon.  The droids would make it to the planet and get a head start before anyone realized what he had done. 

Two of the Stormtroopers had to help Gaheris walk as they made their way down to the docking door.  By the time they arrived, the effects of the stun blast had worn off.  This was a relief, because Gaheris would have been humiliated if he’d had to appear before Darth Ursus while being unable to use his legs.

He was a perfect representation of the highly advanced technology that existed on the capital planet of Rome.  Having sustained some major injury at some point in his life, the entire left side of Ursus’ body had been replaced by robotics.  Although technology was such that Ursus could have easily hidden this, the Emperor’s bloodhound seemed to enjoy flaunting his robotics.  While the dark purple shirt and black pants hid the robot half of his chest and lower body, his arm, neck and face were clearly visible.  And the machinery, which could have been silent, whirled and hissed loudly with every move Ursus made.

He’d been a handsome man once—the right side of Ursus’ face proved that.  Although lined with age, Ursus’ face had a quality to it that drew people to him.  A face that promised victory in all endeavors, compassion in all settlements and the true trust and faith a leader had in his men.  When he had first arrived in Rome, Gaheris hadn’t believed any of the stories about Ursus until he had seen the man choke a senator with his mind for daring to disagree with him.

“My lord, the Prince of Lothian,” the lead Stormtrooper said. 

“Are you certain?” Ursus asked, turning to face Gaheris.  He wore a black cloak positioned so it covered his right side, making the robotic left all the more prominent.

Ursus reached out with his left hand and ripped apart the collar of Gaheris’ tunic, revealing the black dragon tattooed on his right shoulder.  It was a symbol of his mother’s people—the Tribes of Annwyn.  They traveled from planet to planet, sometimes settling, marrying and having a family.  Anyone who could trace their lineage back to the tribe was tattooed at birth, so that tribe members could always recognize each other.  That tattoo couldn’t transfer to a shape-shifter or a clone and couldn’t be copied by someone who didn’t have one or to anyone who wasn’t of the bloodline.  It was unique to the Annwyn.

It also allowed them to know each other.  Seeing the dragon on another person gave Gaheris the knowledge of who they were to him.  It was as though he could sense the blood connection between them and knew their relation, however distant. 

Gaheris had worked hard since joining the senate to keep the dragon concealed.  And it certainly wasn’t well known that his mother was Annwyn.—most simply believed her to be a former Lady of Cornwall.  So how had Ursus known about the dragon?  Was it because he had one of his own?  The way he was staring at Gaheris… it was as though he was trying to sense that blood connection.  Was it possible?  Could Ursus be Annwyn? 

“Are you planning on adding ‘assaulting a senator’ to your list of crimes today, Darth Ursus?” Gaheris asked, trying to draw the conversation away from him and his history. 

“It’s not a crime to assault a rebel spy,” Ursus said, shifting so Gaheris could only see his robotic half.

“Rebel spy?” Gaheris asked, widening his eyes.  “I think you’re experiencing a bit of a malfunction.  I’m on a diplomatic mission to provide aide—”

“Not this time,” Ursus said.  “You received a transmission from Colonge on your last drop out of hyperspace.  Information stolen by rebel spies and transmitted to you to deliver…where?  What have you done with the plans you intercepted?”

“Our last drop out of hyperspace was due to repairs.  We never received a transmission and if we had by accident, we certainly wouldn’t have held onto it.  Now, I demand to speak with the Senate Arms Committee to lodge a formal complaint against your conduct here.”

“Rebels spies and traitors have no rights to communicate with the Senate,” Ursus said.  “Only with me.  Take him away.”

One of the Stormtroopers shoved Gaheris in the direction of the Imperial Star Destroyer.  As he walked, Gaheris let out a low breath.  While he would have preferred to be on his way back to Lothian right now after having dropped off the plans and Caliburn swords with Morgan Le Fay, all things considered, Gaheris was willing to call this one a victory.

* * *

“Holding him is dangerous,” the captain of the Star Destroyer said once Prince Gaheris was out of sight.  “Lothian already holds too much sympathy within the Senate—their military disarmed, the blockade, their queen in exile, and three of their princes fighting for the rebellion.  To arrest the only prince with an allegiance to the planet and their senator could—”

“Enough,” Ursus said and the captain’s jaw snapped shut.  “Recovering the Death Star plans before the rebellion is far more important than the Senate’s politics.  Besides, placating the Senate will soon no longer be a concern of the Emperor.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Send a distress signal and then destroy the ship.  Inform the Senate all were killed in a mechanical malfunction.  That was their excuse for their last drop out of hyperspace.  We may as well put it to good use.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Lord Ursus,” one of his aides said, holding a readout pad that had the Lothian ship’s log compared with the Star Destroyer’s.  Ursus flipped through the information, making sure the actions of the Star Destroyer were appropriate reactions to those of the Lothian’s. 

“Why was an escape pod allowed to reach the planet?” Ursus asked.

“The gunners were ordered to hold fire because the Prince was trying to use the pod as a means to escape.  The escape pod jettisoned on accident and was out of range before the gunners were given the go to destroy it.  Neither the gunners nor the Stormtroopers thought it worthwhile to send the Tie Fighters after it.”

“And I suppose they never considered that Prince Gaheris had hidden the plans on the pod and was using his capture as a diversion?”

“Doubtful, my lord.”

“Send a detachment down to the planet to retrieve those plans.  And have those who decided against sending the Tie Fighters report to me.  They know better than to be so negligent.”

“Yes, my lord,” the aide said.  He nodded and walked back to the Star Destroyer.

Ursus turned to the nearest window and looked down at the planet below.  Cornwall.  Was it by chance the Lothian ship had dropped out of hyperspace here or had the rebels planned this rendezvous point?  And if this was a rendezvous point, had its selection been by chance or was it her choice?  Did Prince Gaheris know of his family’s ties to Cornwall?  Did the foolish boy realize the significance of this planet or had she kept it from him?

“My lord?” the captain asked.

“We’ll be returning to the Death Star with Prince Gaheris,” Ursus said.  “It’s better suited for the interrogation his highness is to endure.”

“You think he’ll give up the location of the rebel base?”

“No.  But that’s no reason not to try,” Ursus said, turning around to return to the Star Destroyer.


	4. The Lady of Tintagel

Sunset was the best time for catching aspidochelones.  At least the small ones.  No one in their right mind would go after a full grown aspidochelone.  The fish could grow as large as a small island and there wasn’t much in the universe that could pierce their hard exoskeleton.  The aspidochelones were only vulnerable during their molt or when they were young and small.  And flying. 

Morgause Luwddoc watched with interest as her son and nephew went about harvesting the aspidochelones.  Two tiny bait droids were situated just beneath the water, buzzing around noisily and disturbing aspidochelone’s feeding ground.  Upset, the fish would jump out of the water and fly a few meters through the air before diving back beneath the water.  At this point in their young lives, the aspidochelones were small enough and light enough, with their fins so much disproportionately larger than their bodies, that they would jump and fly at the first sign of trouble under the water.  But just because they were light didn’t mean their exoskeleton was any less impressive than their larger selves.  Energy blasts bounced harmlessly off their hard shells and most sharp surfaces couldn’t penetrate.  The only way to catch these fish was to shoot a metal bolt into their unprotected sides.  Because their large fins were also protected by the exoskeleton, the only time their sides were exposed was when they were flying.  It was a tough shot.  Not many fishermen were willing to try harvesting the aspidochelones because of this.

But Morgause had been born and raised on Cornwall.  Her father had taught her and her sister how to catch aspridochelones and she had passed that knowledge onto her sons and nephew.  The aspidochelones fetched the best price of any fish on the planet.  Harvesting them was the best way to make a living. 

Her son, Agravain, and nephew, Mordred, were on hover bikes, zooming over the water as the aspidochelones jumped into the air.  The bikes were mounted with a projectile gun that shot out a spike connected to a ball bearing.  The spike would lodge into the fish if the boys made their shot and the ball bearing would keep the fish from going too far.  A second set of hover crafts, piloted by droids, also flew over the water.  These crafts were mounted with magnets and collected the ball bearings and spikes—whether they had snagged a fish or not.

Mordred was the better fisherman—at least in this.  He had better reflexes on the bike and was a better shot.  More importantly, he knew instinctively which fish were in his ability to catch.  That was why nearly every shot he made took down an aspidochelones.  Agravain was a 50/50 shot.  Which of course wasn’t bad (most fishermen weren’t nearly so lucky).

With two such astute fishermen, the harvesting of the aspidochelones was the primary source of income for the small family.  Fishing was the primary source of income and food for most families as Cornwall was a small planet composed of tiny islands spread out across the vast ocean.  The largest land mass was Cornasin, where King Mark  tried to rule the planet with an iron fist.  His power had been undisputed until about twenty years ago when a gang lord known as Ironside constructed a massive mechanical station out on the open waters.  Ever since, Ironside had wielded as much power on Cornwall as Mark did and was shown as much deference by her citizens.  The power struggle between the two had proven costly. 

But not for Tintagel, the island fortress where Morgause and her siblings had been raised and where she had raised her sons and nephew.  Tintagel was the most well-fortified homestead on Cornwall, safe from Mark, Ironside, and the more immediate threat of the merfolk. 

At the thought of the merfolk, Morgause lowered her rifle and pressed a few buttons on a control pod on her belt.  The control unit summoned the bait and harvest droids back to the boat.  The boys, seeing that they were alone in the water, returned as well.

“Bit early to be calling it a day,” Agravain said once he had pulled his hover bike up against the side of the boat.

“Nonsense,” Morgause said, grabbing the edge of the bike and holding it against the boat.  Agravain powered the bike down and jumped onto the deck to help Morgause latch the bike to the boat.  Since he was so much stronger than her—tall with broad shoulders—Morgause let him do most of the work.  “It’s getting dark.  The merfolk will start hunting soon.

“We could have continued for another half hour at least.”

“We have a sizable catch.  No sense in getting greedy and risking our lives.”

They finished with the bike and Agravain stripped off his helmet, shaking out his sweat soaked brown hair.  After wiping his face on a towel, he moved to latching the two droid crafts to the boat while Morgause went to help Mordred with his bike.

“Fair hunting,” Morgause said.  Mordred pulled his helmet off first and tossed it to Morgause.  She passed him a towel so he could wipe down his face.  Unlike Agravain, who was all Lothian with his large frame, freckled face and red tinged hair, Mordred had much more in common with Morgause.  They shared the same dark hair, fair skin, and a lithe but sturdy build. 

“Thanks,” the young man said, jumping onto the deck and helping Morgause latch up the bike.

“Show off!” Agravain yelled.

“It's hardly my fault you’re only a mediocre fisherman,” Mordred said.  “I’m certainly not going to pretend to be less and keep us from valuable resources just so you can feel better.”

“Oh.  I’m going to thump you well and good for that one,” Agravain said.  He had finished with the droid’s crafts and started towards Mordred.

Morgause stepped between them.  “Hold that thought till we get back to Tintagel.  If we’re attacked by the merfolk while you two are tussling, I will toss you both overboard.  Understood?”

“I’ll get you,” Agravain said.  They both went to make sure the bait crafts were secure before taking up two of the rifles and positioning themselves at the rear of the boat.  They kept their eyes on the water as Morgause piloted the ship back to the Tintagel. 

The island was a tall plateau that rose formidably out of the water.  The family fortress sat majestically atop it.  A shield encircled the entire rocky area—protecting the fortress from any who would do it harm.  As they neared one of the caves that were scattered throughout the plateau, Morgause lowered the shield and piloted the ship into the cave they used to house their ship, equipment, and fishery.

They went to work once Morgause had powered down the boat.  They put the aspidochelones on ice and cleaned the bikes and droids.  Once everything was in its place the three took the lift up to through the cliff face and into the fortress.  Agravain stepped out of the lift first.  He came to an abrupt stop and Mordred nearly ran into him.

“What is it?” Morgause asked, stepping out of the lift.  She looked to the sky where an Imperial Star Destroyer was making short work of a cruise vessel.

“What’s the Imperial Fleet doing way out here?” Mordred asked.

“Let’s hope we don’t find out,” Agravain said.

“Come along,” Morgause said.  “Best we get inside.”

“Are we in danger?” Mordred asked. 

“Terrible danger,” Agravain said.  “Haven’t you heard of the Empire’s dastardly plot to execute all fishermen?”

Mordred gave Agravain a shove and the thumping Agravain had promised back on the ship finally occurred.  Mordred was quick on his feet, but Agravain towered over him and was well versed in his younger cousin’s tricks.

“Enough,” Morgause said.  “In danger or not, I’d feel better if we were indoors.”

Once inside the fortress, the three set to work on fixing supper.  Morgause’s youngest boys had left Cornwall five years ago to explore the galaxy.  For five years it had just been her, Agravain and Mordred.  They had learned to do a lot of things on their own after the twins left.  They had created a routine that they had no trouble slipping into whenever there was work to be done.

They spent their meal talking about droids.  A gnome ship would be coming to Tintagel tomorrow and the three debated whether they needed any more help.

“We need a translator,” Agravain said firmly after Morgause made it known she had no desire to deal with those pesky creatures.  “There’s no way around it.”

“We’ve needed a translator for months,” Morgause said.  “So far the gnomes have been unable to provide.”

“They’re coming directly from Cornasin this time.  It’ll be better pickings.”

“We could also use a repair droid,” Mordred said.  “Our ZM unit won’t do much good in a merfolk attack.  It’s not familiar enough with the shield generator.  It can’t perform repairs without one of us supervising.”

“Again, the gnomes aren’t likely to provide anything better.  It would be more useful to go to Cornasin or the Red Station if we were serious about either of these needs.”

Neither young man had a response to that.  Aside from fishing, the family didn’t leave Tintagel.  There was no reason to go to Cornasin or the Red Station.  More than enough travelers came to Tintagel to trade.  And if there wasn’t a reason to go to the largest ports on Cornwall, the smaller ones certainly didn’t have anything to offer.  And Cornasin and the Red Station were dangerous.  A person was more likely to have all their possessions stolen than come away with whatever they were trying to buy.

“Still,” Agravain finally said.  “It’s worth looking.”

“Then you and Mordred meet with them,” Morgause said.  “I can’t abide those creatures.”

After they cleared the table and washed the dishes, Morgause stepped out on to the fortress ramparts to watch the sky.  Both ships were gone, and she didn’t want to think about what had happened to the cruiser.  After a few minutes of watching the stars, searching for life out in the coldness of space, she pulled her locket out from under her tunic and opened it. 

The locket was the prized possession of the Annwyn people.  For a tribe of nomads there was a need to remember the people they met who would forever grace their heart.  Family, lovers, dear friends—a lock of hair from these was kept within the locket.  To ensure that those loved and lost would forever be with them.

Morgause flipped through the thin sheets of glass in the locket until she came to her husband’s hair.  It was bright red, like those of her boys except Agravain.  Was Lot’s hair still red, she wondered, or had it all gone gray?  She hadn’t seen Lot in nearly twenty years.  It was so hard to imagine her husband as old.

“I may not know a Star Destroyer from a freighter,” Agravain said as he joined her on the ramparts.  “But I know a Lothian ship when I see one.”  Morgause looked over her shoulder to make sure Mordred wasn’t also coming up to the ramparts.  “He’s shutting down the droids.”

“It was the Gringolet,” Morgause said.  Even in the dim light, she saw Agravain’s brow furrow.  It had been twenty years and he had been a child the last time anyone uttered that name in his presence.  But he remembered.  He remembered his father’s ship.    

“Father?”

“No.  He’s still on Lothian.”  She had been able to sense Lot since they day they met.  It was the same with her boys.  “It was Gaheris.”

“Did they destroy the ship?”

“They did.”

“Gaheris?” Agravain asked and Moraguse studied his face.  He was her bear.  The child who had stood beside her through everything—even as his brothers had gone on to explore the galaxy.  Gawain, Gaheris, and Gareth may have gone on to fight in the rebellion, but her bear was braver than any of them.  It took a special kind of courage to stay behind when all others were moving forward.

“He lives,” Morgause said.  And it broke her heart to think of Gaheris being held prisoner by the Imperials.  What awaited him…

“Why would he come here?”

“I don’t know,” Morgause said, but she couldn’t help looking towards the droid housing building.  Mordred was only nineteen—a year too young to leave Tintagel and join his cousins in the rebellion (at least by Morgause’s rules).  But if things were going badly—if the rebellion was desperate—Isolde would defy her. 

“What do we do?” Agravain asked.  “Should we try to contact the rebellion?  Get off planet before the Empire realizes Gaheris may have been on his way here?”

“We wait,” Morgause said.

“What?”

“Something is coming.  Something important.  We need to be here when it arrives.”

“And if the Imperials arrive first?” Agravain asked.

“I have been prepared for that possibility since we came here,” Morgause said.  “Tintagel will hold.  This fortress is impenetrable.”

“That’s not going to do you-know-who much good in completing his you-know-what,” Agravain said.

“No, I suppose not,” Morgause said.  “But the path is clear to me, my bear.  I must wait here.”

“I understand,” Agravain said.

“Perhaps you should take Mordred to Cornasin and find a transport.  It should be easy for you to contact Gawain and—”

“No,” Agravain said, taking her hands.  “I’ll stand beside you, as I always have.  But Mordred…”

“No.  I’ll not send him off on his own.  Not yet.”

“Very well,” Agravain said, kissing one of her hands.  “Are you coming in?”

“In a moment.”

Agravain nodded and retreated back into the fortress.  Morgause looked back at her locket.  How she missed her husband.  She remembered those early days in Lothian.  After their marriage—when she had been pregnant with their first child.  Back before ancient prophecies had so corrupted her life, and everything had gone so wrong.

She could see the path clearly.  Lot wouldn’t be long for this life and her only consolation was that she would be there to greet him when he crossed over into the next.

* * *

**Notes:**

_Tintagel is the home of Duke Gorlois and his wife Igraine, the parents of Morgause and Morgan Le Fay.  Uther attacked Tintagel after he fell into lust with Igraine, eventually convincing Merlin to make him look like Gorlois so he could have one night with Igraine.  While it is a one and done location in the legend, it is also where Arthur's story starts, which is why I felt like it worked well for Tatooine._

_In some versions of the legend, after Mordred is set adrift in the May Day Massacre, he is found and raised by a fisherman and his wife.  I decided to merge that aspect with the ones where he is returned to Morgause by having the family fish for a living._

_Technically Gringolet is Gawain's horse, not Lot's, but it seemed worth shuffling around so I could use the name here._

_Ironside as Jabba is something I'll get into a little later._

 


	5. Partners

The landing on the planet was very rough, but fortunately for Dinadan his casing didn't crack.  AC-LN popped out of the escape pod first, hovering above the ground as Dinadan stumbled out of the pod and into the darkness of the night.  His lenses automatically corrected to night vision to compensate.

Once he was certain that the ground was stable under him, Dinadan looked around, allowing his sensors to take in his surroundings because there was only so much night vision could do.  They had crashed on a rocky land mass sparsely populated with a few shrubs and insects.  They had escaped being melted down and scrapped into parts in exchange for a slow death through loss of power and rusting.

“Follow,” AC-LN buzzed, flying off over the rocks.

“Wait!  Not so fast!” Dinadan shouted, but of course his voice was muted so AC-LN couldn't hear him.  Dinadan moved as fast as he could—which wasn't very fast at all.  He wasn't designed to go tumbling about on a rocky terrain.  This was almost as bad as being on a spaceship!

After several very agonizing minutes, Dinadan joined AC-LN on a shoreline.  An endless ocean stretched out before.  AC-LN was swaying back and forth over the water and seemed unable to make up its mind about something.

“Goodness, whatever will we do now?” Dinadan asked, but of course no sound meant AC-LN couldn't answer.  That didn't stop Dinadan from talking, though.  He was a BARD droid.  He liked to talk—even if no one could hear him.  “We can’t go back over the rocks!  My joints won’t hold up!”

“Partner,” AC-LN buzzed, turning to face Dinadan.

“Oh no we’re not,” Dinadan retorted.

“Sorry,” AC-LN said, reaching out to turn Dinadan’s voice back on.  “Miss you,” the astromech added before zooming off over the ocean at a speed Dinadan couldn't hope to match even if he could enter the water without short circuiting.

“Wait!  AC-LN!  Come back!  You can’t leave me like this!” Dinadan shrieked now that he could really yell.

“Secret mission!” he heard AC-LN buzz over the roar of the ocean.  “Sorry!  Miss you!”

“No!  Wait!  AC-LN!  You worthless tin-can!  How dare you drag me into this mess and then leave me here to die!  AC-LN!  Come back!  Come back!”

* * *

AC-LN flew over the water in the direction of the coordinates Prince Gaheris had given it.  It felt bad about leaving Dinadan—it really did.  The two droids had been partners forever and the realization that it might not see Dinadan again made it’s gears feel rusty.  But it had been given a directive by Prince Gaheris.  AC-LN prided itself on never failing a directive.  Even if it meant leaving its partner behind.

It was cheered by the knowledge that it was on its way to visit Morgan le Fay.  AC-LN missed Morgan le Fay.  Adventures with her were always more exciting.

AC-LN was hours out from the small island where it had left Dinadan when it detected the sound of another ship.  AC-LN adjusted its sensors to identify the ship.  Its was a whirligig—a propeller based ship with a flat, open-air body.  Primary transport of gnomes—the land dwelling, indigenous species of Cornwall.

AC-LN slowed as it kept its sensors trained on the whirligig.  The ship passed over it—casting a shadow over the ocean as it drifted between AC-LN and the rising sun.  Sensors detected hundreds of gnomes moving about the ship.  The astromech’s sensors could even pick up each individual conversation on the ship, but its translator wasn't sophisticated  enough to include gnomish.

The astromech considered lowering itself closer to the water to disguise its signature from the whirligig.  But AC-LN’s sensors also detected merfolk—one of the many underwater indigenous species of Cornwall—just below the surface.  AC-LN did not want to get within grabbing range of those creatures.

The droid was still calculating the best course of action when the whirligig fired an electrical shot—overloading AC-LN’s systems and causing an automatic reboot.

* * *

When the system reboot completed and AC-LN’s systems powered back on, the astromech found itself in a dark room filled with several other droids.  It’s sensors whirled as it tried to determine where it was.  It detected the gnomes above it and water far below.  The sound of the whirligig's propeller mixed in with the chatter of the gnomes and other droids.

AC-LN dropped three limbs from its body and rose up so it was two feet tall.  It rolled across the floor, sensors taking in and identifying the other droids in the room.  They were a ragtag group—most only a few hours away from a severe malfunction.

There was an open door across the room and AC-LN made its way towards it.  About a foot away from the door, AC-LN froze as an auxiliary source caused a small system overload.  Once the quick reboot was completed, AC-LN tried again to move forward and was again hit by a system overlord.  Sensors indicated some sort of restraining device bolted to its outer casing.  This device was overloading its systems every time it tried to leave the room.  There was no getting out until the gnomes allowed it.

AC-LN backed away from the door and continued to move around the room, making sure its sensors analyzed all of the other droids carefully.  It was well aware that if it had been caught, Dinadan hadn't stood a chance.

“AC!” the familiar voice asked right as AC-LN’s sensors picked up on Dinadan.

“Friend!” the astromech chirped.

“You!” Dinadan yelled, whacking a hand on top of AC-LN’s hull.  “How dare you leave me in the middle of nowhere like that!  I could have fallen and broken my outer casing!  I could have been captured by fiends!  Broken down and sold for parts!”

“And you still could be!” AC-LN said cheerfully, earning itself another whack from Dinadan.

Sensors indicated that they rode on the whirligig throughout the morning.  While there were no windows in the room they were in, AC-LN's internal clock had continued running despite the reboot.  The astromech knew exactly how long it had been since the gnomes had captured it.  Calculating that against how long it took Cornwall to rotate along its axis and how far along in the rotation the planet had been when AC-LN had been captured brought about the conclusion that they had been traveling all morning and that it was early afternoon when the whirligig finally came to a halt.

“What now?” Dinadan asked.

“Don't know,” AC-LN chirped.

“This is it, isn't it?” Dinadan asked.  “We're to be melted down or scrapped for parts.  It's the end of us, AC.  I'm glad we're going out together.”

“Your simulated fear has always made these adventures more exciting,” AC-LN said, figuring that Dinadan deserved to hear something nice about his programming if this really was about to be the end of them.  If only so the BARD droid could feel some sense of simulated comfort.

Gnomes appeared in the open doorway and motioned to the droids, speaking so fast that AC-LN, if he'd had the capability to translate, would have had to play back a recording of their words at a much slower rate in order to understand.  Dinadan seemed to have no trouble, though, and motioned to AC-LN that they were to follow the other droids out of the room.

AC-LN rolled along after the other droids, trying to stay in the middle of the pack.  It didn't want to draw any attention to itself right now.  It would be easier to escape once outside the whirligig than if he were trapped inside it.

Besides, with all the fuss Dinadan was making, AC-LN was pretty sure that the gnomes wouldn't be paying any attention to him. 


	6. First Move

“Mordred!  Agravain!"

Both young men paused at the lift and looked back at the fortress ramparts.  Morgause stood there, holding a bundle of cloaks in her arms.  She beckoned to them and Agravain gave Mordred a shove out of the lift.  He ran up to the wall, stopping right as his aunt dropped the bundle.  He caught one cloak and had to pick the other up off the wet ground. 

“Make sure Agravain doesn’t purchase a translator if it can’t be directly interfaced with the boats,” Morgause said.

“That will be impossible to find!” Mordred protested.

“A translator by itself isn’t worth the price.  I want it to be able to work with the equipment as well,” Morgause said.  “And put that cloak on before you catch your death.”

Mordred pulled a cloak—the dry one—on as he jogged back to the lift.  He tossed the wet one at Agravain.  “Aunt Morgause wants you to stay warm.”

“This is all wet,” Agravain said and Mordred hugged his dry cloak closer.  “You think she’s going to watch us?”

“She said not to buy a translator if it couldn’t interface with the boats.”

“Give me that cloak,” Agravain said, tugging at the garment.  Mordred held it more tightly.

“No.”

“Come on.  She’ll raise hell if she doesn’t see me wearing it,” Agravain said.  “And you dropped this one, so you should have to wear it.”

“You made me go get the cloaks,” Mordred said.  “You have to take what I give you.”

Agravain made another grab for the cloak, but Mordred wouldn’t let it go.  The lift door opened before the rough housing could begin in earnest.  Growling, Agravain threw the wet cloak over his shoulders and stepped out of the lift as several gnomes grabbed him by the arms and pulled him along to where the droids were lined up on the dock.  Mordred trailed along behind, glancing at the droids while trying to look disinterested.  He didn’t want the gnomes accosting him the way they were Agravain.

To his surprise, there were two AC units up for sale.  The gnomes rarely had even one AC unit.  Two was practically a miracle.  No way they could pass this by.  Either droid would be more than competent in handling droid repairs. 

Agravain knelt down in front of the two units and looked them over.  From what Mordred could see, one, a blue one, appeared to be in better cosmetic condition.  The maroon one had all sorts of charred scoring and dents in its hull.  Mordred wasn’t at all surprised when Agravain picked the blue one and motioned for Mordred to check it. 

As Agravain stood to look over the other droids, Mordred took his place in front of the blue mech.  He plugged in a small computer into the droid to ensure its software wasn’t fragmented.  The test had just finished running and confirmed the droid’s software to be intact when he heard Agravain laugh. 

“Dred, come here and look at this!”

Mordred jumped to his feet and jogged over to his cousin.  Agravain was standing in front of a humanoid droid with a clear casing but with gray lighting to hide its internal system.

“Look!  It’s a BARD droid!” Agravain said.

“A what?”

“A BARD droid.  You know, from back on—no, you don’t.  Do you?”  Mordred rolled his eyes.  Agravain had been on Lothian for the first eight years of his life and sometimes forgot that Mordred had been raised entirely on Cornwall.  “They tell stories.  Epic legends, histories, myths—you name it.  From every planet and culture imaginable.”

“Great.  Real useful in a family of fishermen,” Mordred said.  “I don’t see a translator.  So buy the astromech and let’s go.”

“Translator?” the BARD droid asked.  “Sir, as part of my programming I know every language connected to every culture whose tale I possess along with all forms of droid and machinery communication.  I could very easily do translator work if that was required of me.”

“That could work,” Agravain said. 

“Except Aunt Morgause doesn’t want a translator that can’t be interfaced with the boats.”

“Transport interface is one of my primary functions,” the BARD droid said.  “I am required to constantly accumulate new tales and there is no better way to do so that to hear these tales from the ships themselves.”

“Quite the salesman,” Mordred said, looking over the BARD droid with newfound respect.

“You seem familiar,” Agravain said to the droid.  “Have we met?”

“I don’t recognize you, sir,” the BARD replied.

“Well, you would be the expert,” Agravain said.  He looked at Mordred.  “We good?

“I’m satisfied,” Mordred said.  “But you get to explain to Aunt Morgause if she isn’t.”

“She’ll love it.  You watch,” Agravain said.  He motioned to the BARD droid and the blue AC unit.  “We’ll take these two.  How much?”  One of the gnomes mumbled a price but Mordred couldn’t make it out as he was already leading the two droids back to Tintagel.  But he did hear Agravain’s loud response of “Ah, no.  Try again.”

“Thank you so much for the purchase, sir,” the BARD droid was saying as they made their way to the main lift.  “I do so appreciate it.  I thought for certain I was going to melted down for parts or—”  The BARD droid stopped talking abruptly as the blue AC unit dropped to the ground.  Mordred sighed as he knelt down next to it.  Incomplete mechanics, if he were to hazard a guess.  For as good as it looked on the outside, Mordred very much doubted that he would find much if he were to open the droid’s hull.  

Mordred brought his fingers to his lips and let loose a sharp whistle.  Agravain stopped mid haggle and turned to see the broken droid.  His faced turned red as he turned back to the gnomes and let them have it.  That was the risk when it came to buying from the gnomes.  Sometimes the units only had enough in them to make it up the lift into the fortress.  The family had more than enough resources to handle most repairs that the droids came in need of.  But they still weren’t going to buy a droid in as poor a shape as this one. 

“Do you still require an astromech, sir?” the BARD droid said.  “Because if you are, that maroon unit is in top condition.”  Mordred glanced at the other astromech.  The one with more dents and scorches than Mordred thought possible for one little droid to suffer and still function.  He looked back up at the BARD unit and his disbelief must have been obvious.  Even for a droid.  “I know it doesn’t look like much, but I’ve worked with that unit for years.  There’s no finer, sir.  I assure you.”

“Agravain!” Mordred yelled and his cousin turned back around.  “Buy the other one.”

“What?” Agravain yelled.  Mordred shrugged and motioned to the BARD droid with his head.  Agravain turned back to the gnomes and Mordred could hear his cousin yelling.  “Fine, that one.  But I’m not paying much of anything for it because it looks like a breeze will knock it apart.  And I still want a decent discount on the BARD.”

Mordred motioned to the maroon astromech and beckoned for it to join them.  The droid rolled forward to join them by the lift where Mordred decided it was best to wait for Agravain in case either of these droids started to malfunction.  A handful of gnomes raced forward to collect the blue astromech and bring it back to their whirligig.  A few minutes later Agravain finally stomped over to the lift.  Growling and muttering to himself, he herded Mordred and the two droids into the lift.  When the doors had closed and they were on their way up to the fortress, Agravain laughed as a large grin broke out on his face.

“Ho boy!  What timing that was!  Best deal I’ve ever gotten out of them!”

“Only good if the droids are working,” Mordred said. 

“Aw, have a little faith, Dred,” Agravain said.  “Tonight we’re going to enjoy an epic legend over dinner.  You watch.  It’ll be amazing.  Best show a backwater brat like you has ever seen.”

The lift door opened and the two young men led the droids into the droid housing building where they would put the droids through cleaning, a more comprehensive check for software fragmentation and see to any parts replacement.  Agravain immediately set to work on giving the new BARD unit in an oil flushing while Mordred checked over the inner mechanics of the astromech.

“This is divine, sirs, simply divine,” the BARD droid was saying once Agravain had finished plugging in the flushing tubes and turned it on.  “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since we’ve received this level of basic maintenance.”

“Well, you look it,” Agravain said, going over to the computer console.  “Can I get your designation?”

“Certainly, sir.  I am D-NDN.  Previous owners have referred to me as Dinadan as it is easier for young children to pronounce.  It’s up to you if you would prefer to use that or my designation.”

“Dinadan,” Agravain muttered as he entered the name and designation into the console.  “That sounds damn familiar.  You ever serve in the House of Luwddoc?”

“No, sir,” Dinadan said.  “My primary service has been on a transport ship.”

“This one is AC-LN,” Mordred added.  Agravain nodded and entered that information.

“Boys,” came Morgause’s voice over the intercom.  Since he was closest to it and Mordred was busy working on the astromech, Agravain made his way to the intercom and pressed the button to respond.

“What is it, mother?” he asked.

“I’m getting some odd energy fluctuations from the shield generator.  Did you purchase a droid capable of looking it over?”

“We did,” Agravain said.  “But Mordred and I are still working on getting them cleaned up and checked over.”

“Well, then one of you will need to go down and look over the shield.”

Mordred started to get to his feet but Agravain waved him back.  “I’ll go check.  You finish up with that one.  Since it will probably take you all night.”

“It’s in better shape than it looks,” Mordred said.

“I’ll believe that when I see it in action,” Agravain said as he left the droid hub.

“A shield generator, sir?” Dinadan asked. 

“A requirement if you’re going to live any sort of productive life on Cornwall,” Mordred said.  “With all the gang lords fighting over this planet, smugglers looking for places to lay low—add in the merfolk with all the unscrupulous characters trying to make a living here and you won’t last long without one.”

“Cornwall?  Is that the planet we’re on, sir?”

“It is,” Mordred said.  “And you can just call me Mordred.  The other man is my cousin, Agravain, and his mother, my Aunt Morgause, is the woman you heard over the intercom.  We’re fishermen, in case you were worried.  This fortress has been a part of my aunt’s family for generations.  Long before Cornwall became a home for criminals of all stripes.”

“That’s a relief to hear, sir,” Dinadan said.  “I have certainly had more than enough excitement in my lifetime.  Settling down in a peaceful fishery may just be the best thing that’s ever happen to me.”

“Looking at your friend here, I believe it,” Mordred said, his full attention on the astromech.  His visual inspection of the droid’s outer components was complete and he was satisfied that none of its outer system had taken any damage despite the poor shape of its hull.  He moved on now to opening up the droid’s hull to inspect its inner mechanics.  “So what happened to you, little guy?  This looks like blaster scoring.”

AC-LN let out several curt buzzes.  Dinadan sighed.

“Don’t be rude,” the BARD snapped.  “Please forgive it, sir.  The captain of our transport ship allowed it the run of the place.  I’m afraid this caused it to get a bit above itself.”

“Well, I don’t mind,” Mordred said.  “But I’d watch out for my Aunt Morgause if I were you.  She has little enough patience for droids as it is.” 

“Hear that?” Dinadan asked AC-LN.  “No one is going to put up with your nonsense anymore.”

With a sigh, Mordred sat back on his heels.  It had become apparent that the astromech’s hull was far too damaged for him to just pull open with his hands.  He would have to use the tools.  And then he would have to try and hammer the dents out in order to get it back on.  Agravain was right—he was going to be here all night.

“So are you two going to tell me what happened to you or am I going to have to guess?” Mordred asked, getting to feet and going over to the tool cabinet to pull out a chisel and a hammer. 

“It was dreadful.  Simply dreadful,” Dinadan explained as Mordred squatted back down next to AC-LN and positioned the chisel near one of the dents over where the droid’s hull opened.  “It was just supposed to a mission of diplomatic aide.  It went all wrong when the hyperdrive malfunctioned and dropped us out in restricted Imperial Space.  Prince Gaheris tried—”

“Gaheris?” Mordred asked, swinging his head around to look at the BARD droid.  At that same moment, something shot out of the astromech.  Trying to look at both units at once caused Mordred to lose his balance and he fell onto his side.  Lying on the ground, he found himself faced with a miniature hologram of one of his cousins.  Gaheris—the elder of the twins who had left Cornwall five years ago to join the rebellion.  But Dinadan had said their previous ship was a transport ship.  He’d made no mention of the rebellion.  The fine white uniform Gaheris was wearing in the hologram—so pristine it may as well have been new—certainly didn’t look like something one would find in the rebellion.  And Prince Gaheris?  What was going on?

“My ship has come under attack and I am unable to complete my mission,” the hologram of Gaheris was saying.  Then the hologram flickered and the message repeated.  And repeated.  And repeated and repeated and repeated and...

“Where did you get this?” Mordred finally managed to ask.  AC-LN let out a few whistles.

“What do you mean it’s an error?” Dinadan asked.  “I saw him creating the tail end of that message right before he bullied us onto the escape pod.”  Now AC-LN made a few low buzzes, but Mordred didn’t have time to worry about what the astromech was saying.  He stumbled to his feet and made his way to the intercom.

“Don’t get smart with me,” Dinadan said, although Mordred barely registered the words.  “Answer his question.  And with the truth this time.”

“Aunt Morgause!  Agravain!” Mordred yelled into intercom.  “Get up here!”

Dropping back against the wall, Mordred slowly slid to the ground as Gaheris’ message continued to repeat.  The firefight in the sky last night—that was the attack Gaheris spoke of.  But what was this mission?  And why was Gaheris back out here and dressed like that?  Was he bringing a message for his family?  But what message would lead to his capture by the Empire?  Unless he was still working for the rebels... but then why had Dinadan called him ‘Prince Gaheris’?  This didn’t make any sense.

Agravain was the first to arrive.  He looked at Mordred first, huddled against the wall, and then his head swung around and he found the hologram of his younger brother.  “Oh, Gaheris...” Agravain whispered.  He didn’t sound surprised to be seeing his brother dressed like that in a hologram talking about coming under attack.  Instead he sounded heartbroken—as though he had known this was coming but had believed he wouldn’t ever have to face it directly.  Mordred wondered how his cousin would react if he told him that Dinadan had called Gaheris a prince.  Mordred was willing to bet it wouldn’t be with surprise. 

Morgrause was in the droid housing building moments after Agravain.  Unlike her son, her eyes went first to the hologram.  She drew in a sharp breath, pressing a hand over her heart as she stumbled backwards into Agravain. 

“Mother?” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder.  Morgause straightened up and pulled away from him.

“Get out,” Morgause ordered.

“Get out?” Mordred repeated.  “You can’t just expect us to leave when Ga—”

“I said get out!” Morgause yelled, turning to face them.  Then she shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath.  “I left fish on the fire.  Please see to it.  I’d rather not have this fortress burn down from the inside.”

“Come on, Dred,” Agravain said, offering out his hands.  Mordred took them and let his cousin pull him to his feet.  Agravain slung an arm around his shoulder and maneuvered Mordred out of the droid housing building—not even giving Mordred the chance to look back.  But he did hear his Aunt Morgause shut the door and lock it behind them.

* * *

Once the door was shut and locked, Morgause let out a long sigh and slumped against the door.  It was finally happening.  After all these years of peace it was finally upon them.  It seems she had grown stupid in her exile from the galaxy.  She had foolishly believed that she could control this when she had learned better twenty years ago.  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to learn that she wasn’t going live to see this prophecy through to the end.  All things considered, she was damn lucky that she had managed on Cornwall for as long as she had.  She had given all her boys all the tools they would need to survive this.  Now all she could do for them was allow them as much of a head start as possible. 

Turning around, Morgause found that the astromech had ceased its hologram projection of Gaheris.  It was watching her.  Waiting for her to make the first move.  There was no doubt in Morgause’s mind that the droid had shown Mordred that little bit of Gaheris’ message in order to get her attention.  It knew exactly where it needed to be and the best way to get there.

“Excuse me, madam,” Dinadan started to say but he didn’t get anything else out as Morgause reached around his neck and, with years of practice, powered him down.  That just left her and the astromech.

“Hello Accolon,” Morgause said, using her sister’s nickname for the droid.  “Let me see them.”


	7. Sacrifice

Upon arriving in the kitchen, Agravain plunked Mordred down at the table and shoved a glass of water in his hand.  That settled, he turned his attention to making sure their dinner didn’t burn.  No sense in letting Gaheris...

Agravain swallowed back the lump in his throat.  He couldn’t even think of any jokes about Gaheris right now without tearing up.  The elder of the twins wouldn’t have stood for that.  At least, he wouldn’t have the last time Agravain had seen him five years ago.  Gaheris had looked awfully formal in that Lothian senatorial uniform (Agravain was almost positive it was a senatorial uniform—he had strong memories of his father wearing that same outfit back when he had been Lothian’s senator).  Maybe his younger brother was no longer one for jokes or pranks.  That thought brought another lump to his throat. 

“I thought Gaheris had joined the rebellion with Gawain and Gareth,” Mordred said.  It took a lot of effort for Agravain to keep his shoulders from tensing.  And he didn’t dare turn around.  The problem here was that Mordred was smart.  It was impossible to know how much he had already figured out on his own.  The smart thing to do know would be to come clean and start telling the truth.  But after nineteen years of secrets, the lie came more easily to his lips.

“He did,” Agravain said, working to keep his voice steady.  “But, and this was the last I heard, he’d proven adept at spy work.  So he was moved into the service of the Lothian senator to help the rebellion from there.”

Mordred made no response and for a brief moment Agravain allowed himself to hope that this was the end of his cousin’s questions.

“The BARD unit said he was a prince,” Mordred finally said.

Agravain turned around slowly.  Mordred’s attention was on his cup.  Agravain waited—unwilling to speak this time until he knew what his young cousin was thinking.  Finally, Mordred looked up and his dark eyes met Agravain’s green ones.  Agravain understood the look Mordred was giving him all too well.  The lie was forgiven.  Mordred seemed to understand that Agravain was used to lying and it was a hard habit to kick.  But another lie would not be so easily forgiven.

“House of Luddowc,” Agravain said.  Mordred knew that his cousins had come from a wealthy house before their exile to Cornwall.  He just didn’t know how wealthy.  Or powerful.  “Royal house of Lothian.”

Mordred gave no visible reaction to that news and Agravain wondered how much more he should say and if it would do any good.  After waiting another few minutes in silence, Mordred’s attention returned to his cup.  That’s when the words started spilling from Agravain’s mouth.

“Look, it’s not like we lied to you about everything or even that we went into this with the intention of lying.  What you have to remember is that when we came out here, Gaheris and Gareth were only five.  I was eight and Gawain was nine.  It took a lot of work for mother to come up with something that was close enough to the truth to keep little kids from slipping up.  The only big difference is that our father’s the... you know... King of Lothian instead of just a noble.  And, well...we had to flee Lothian because mother’s always been a member of the rebellion.”

“Not because your father was so in debt that he was arrested and his family exiled from the planet?” Mordred asked dryly.  Agravain shook his head.  “And I suppose your father hasn’t spent the past twenty years in a Lothian prison either?”

“Last I heard he wasn’t allowed to leave the planet,” Agravain said.  “And was under a heavy imperial guard.  So, no.  Not prison. But something close.”

“You’re in contact with the rebellion?” Mordred asked and Agravain heard the accusation being leveled.

“No,” Agravain said.  “Mother is and sometimes she tells me what’s going on... Now don’t give me that look.  You know the rules she set down in this fortress.  Technically you aren’t even allowed to talk about the rebellion for another year.  I’m twenty-eight.  I’m entitled to whatever news she gives me.  Which... It really isn’t that much, Dred.  And this is the first I’ve heard about any of my brothers in a year or two.”

“How sad,” Mordred practically spat out.  “I haven’t heard anything about Gawain since he left nine years ago and this is the first I’ve heard about either of the twins since they left five years ago.  I didn’t even know Gaheris was... what?  He’s the Lothian senator, isn’t he?  What’d he’d have to do to keep the Empire from arresting him the moment he arrived on Lothian?”

“Publicly denounce the rebellion and his brothers who fought in it,” Agravain said.  “Give up mother’s location to the Empire.  The rebellion did a good job of making it look like he had told the truth on that one.  They watch him pretty closely, but I guess he’s been invaluable to the rebellion in that position.”

Mordred looked back down at his cup and after a moment he took a sip.  Then he put the cup down and rested his arms on the table.  “If you were eight when you first left Lothian... That would have been a year before I was born, right?”

“Yeah,” Agravain said.  “I suppose it must have been.”

“Was I born here, then?  Or did someone bring me?”

Agravain knew his cousin well enough to know that Mordred didn’t care about how he’d come to live in Tintagel.  This was a question about his mother—if Agravain remembered her living in Tintagel before Mordred had been born or if he remembered her bringing Mordred to Cornwall.  According to Morgause, there was a high likelihood that Mordred’s mother was still alive.  It was all the kid really had to hang onto as his father, Agravain’s uncle Arthur Pendragon, had died right before the Luddowc family had fled into exile.  Right at the beginning of the Emperor’s reign of terror.

“I’m sorry, Dred,” Agravain said.  “All I remember is that one day you were here.  Just a baby...and mother telling us that you were Uncle Arthur’s son.”

“The fish is burning,” Mordred said.

“What?”

“The fish.”  Mordred motioned to the grill behind Agravain.  The older cousin turned around and cursed at the amount smoke coming up off the grill.  He quickly moved the fish off the grill and onto a waiting plate.  Mordred got to up from the table and together the two cousins managed to scrape off and cut away the burned sections of the fish while still leaving a decent sized meal for the three of them.  Mordred then moved on to warm up some bread while Agravain cut up some fruit.  By the time Morgause returned to the kitchen not a half-hour later, the two young men had managed to put together a pretty presentable dinner.

“Thank you, boys,” she said, taking her seat at the head of the table.  “It looks wonderful.”

Agravain smiled knowing full well that she’d know that they burnt the fish after only taking one bite.  But since there was no way to tell her until she took that bite, he dug into his own food.  Of course Mordred was just sitting... waiting.  Agravain kicked him underneath the table.  Mordred glared at him but at least picked up his fork.  That was an improvement, even if he made no move to eat.

“You burnt the fish,” Morgause said right when Agravain had expected she would.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t burn down the fortress so consider that something,” Agravain muttered.

“What are we going to do about Gaheris?” Mordred asked.  Agravain kicked him again but his cousin didn’t pay him any mind.

“What he asked us,” Morgause said.  “That AC unit was charged with bringing some great matters of importance to your Aunt Morgan’s attention.  We are quite blessed that the droids came into our care first and didn’t end up elsewhere on Cornwall.”

“So that’s it?” Mordred asked.  “We’re just supposed to take the droids to Aunt Morgan?”

“Yes.  If both you and Agravain could do that first thing tomorrow morning I would quite appreciate it.”

“Of course, mother,” Agravain said.

“What about Gaheris?” Mordred demanded.

“Gaheris is very likely on his way to some sort of Imperial stronghold,” Morgause said. 

“You’re just giving up on him?”

“What would you have me do?”

“Contact the rebellion.  Tell them—”

“Enough!” Morgause ordered.  “I’ll not have you talking about the rebellion.  Not yet.  You’re too young, Mordred.”

“I’m nineteen.  I’m only a year away from being a part of this.”

“A year too young, clearly.  You don’t see the larger picture nor do you respect it.  Sacrifices have to be made.  Gaheris knew the risks when he decided to come here.  And yet he still chose to come.  The droids must be delivered to Morgan, Mordred.  Or else Gaheris’ sacrifice is in vain.”

“But why does it need to be a sacrifice?  Why couldn’t you...”

“No,” Morgause said.  “I’ll not risk contacting the rebellion for this.  Not when an Imperial Star Destroyer was so close only a day ago.”

“We should do something,” Mordred insisted.

“Then I wish you all the luck in the world,” Morgause said.  “But know that to leave here before you turn twenty means you leave without my blessing or support.  You don’t get to take one of my ships to Cornasin or the Red Station nor will Agravain or I take you.  You’ll go without money or resources.  See how far that takes you in your quest to rescue Gaheris.”

“Even with your support, I wouldn’t leave without your blessing,” Mordred said.  “I have so few family members left, I can’t really afford to walk away from them on a whim, can I?”  He pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

“Where’re you going?” Agravain asked. 

“To check the shield,” Mordred said.  “You couldn’t have had a chance to do a thorough job before I interrupted you.”

Agravain watched his cousin leave and then turned to his mother.  “You can’t just—”

“My bear, please,” Morgause said, pressing her face against her hands.

Agravain reached out to take her hand.  His mother was so strong—she was the one who had gotten them to Cornwall when the Empire took over Lothian.  She raised four sons and one nephew all alone in the backwaters of the galaxy with crime lords and merfolk waiting on the edge of her fortress.  Not once had Agravain ever seen her flinch in the face of adversity.  But now Gaheris was as good as dead and, if Agravain understood what the arrival of the droids meant, Mordred’s life was about to be turned upside down.  Outwardly, of course, his mother still hadn’t flinched, but on the inside she had to be reeling. 

“He’s going to find out sooner rather than later,” Agravain said.

“Yes, but the later he learns, the stronger he’ll be,” Morgause said.  “He’ll know his own mind.  He’ll know his strengths.  He’ll be able to make his own decisions and others won’t be able to manipulate him to their own ends.”

“You’re sure of that?” Agravain asked. 

“I’ve given you all the tools you’ll need to survive in this galaxy,” Morgause said.  “It’s up to you to decide how to use them.”

“All our choices now, huh?” Agravain asked, getting to his feet.  His thoughts were spinning and he found it left him without an appetite.  He took his plate and Mordred’s to the sink.  He cleaned the plates in silence as his mother finished her dinner.

* * *

Late that evening, after he had finished with the shield and his aunt and cousin had got off to bed, Mordred climbed up onto the fortress walls.  He took a seat and dangled his legs over the ledge. He kept his gaze on the rolling waves below him.  In the dim light he could just make out the flash of merfolk tails as they dove in and out of the water.  There was a crash in the distance—likely a large breaching aspidochelones.  Maybe even a pod of them.  Mordred had never seen any of the big ones up close.  Only at a distance.  Gawain and Agravain had bragged about a big one coming up to their boat during the fishing excursions they had often gone on alone when they were teenagers.  Gaheris had been so jealous.  He’d always wanted to get close to a big one but had never...

Mordred swallowed and looked down at his hands.  He couldn’t look up at the sky without being reminded of Gaheris and how he’d been captured and now it seemed it couldn’t look out at the ocean either.  A sharp reminded that he had lost one more member of his family due to this rebellion against the empire.  His father had died during the Emperor’s initial takeover and his mother had disappeared soon after (Aunt Morgause believed his mother to still be alive and Mordred held onto that hope fiercely).  And with his mother had gone any hope of knowing her family.  Aunt Morgan was distant and preferred to have little to do with her sister or nephews.  Gaheris was gone now too and Gawain and Gareth were fighting a war where they could be lost at any moment.  His family was so small and so at risk of growing smaller was so great that Mordred was almost afraid to face the next day. 


	8. Infested Waters

The boat was gone the next morning when Morgause got down to the cave just after dawn.  At the sight of the empty dock, Morgause collapsed against the wall with a small cry.  For now, her boys were safe.  She had gotten them away from the immediate danger.  Whatever happened next, it was up to them to persevere.  It was up to her to cause the diversions that would allow them the chance to get as far ahead of the Empire as possible. 

“Mother!  Mother!  Are you alright?”

Morgause looked back up the stairs to see Agravain running towards her.

“I heard you cry!” Agravain said, taking Morgause’s outstretched hand.  “What’s wrong?  Are you hurt?”

“What are you still doing here?” Morgause asked.  “You were supposed to go with Mordred.”

“I got him off at dawn’s light,” Agravain said.  “But I’m staying here with you.”

“No,” Morgause said.  “Don’t you realize—”

“I do,” Agravain said.  “But I made a promise.  I’m your bear.  I will stand beside you no matter what the cost.  And believe me, mother.  I understand the cost of this choice.”

Morgause wrapped her arms around Agravain and held him tight.  For a moment she remembered so clearly when he was a little boy hugging at her skirts.  For a moment, she remembered them all as little boys. 

She stepped away from Agravain and wiped her hands over her eyes.  “There’s a bucket of droid parts down by the water.  Take one of the bikes in the opposite direction of Morgan’s home and drop the parts as you go.”

“Will I be back in time?” Agravain asked.

“If you wish to be here, you’ll make it back in more than enough time,” Morgause said. 

“I will be here,” Agravain promised, going down to the water.  Morgause watched him prep his bike for a moment before ascending the stairs.  She wrapped her hand tightly around her locket.  She hadn’t thought she would be able to do this—buying time had been the far more pressing issue.  But Agravain had gifted her the time she needed to do this.  It wasn’t much, but making sure Mordred always had something to tether him to what was important in this world—something his father had lacked—was all Morgause had left to give him.  And Agravain, her bear, had just sacrificed everything so Morgause could pass along this one last gift.

* * *

The sudden gurgling noise from the boat’s engine was more than enough to send Mordred into a panic.  He brought the boat to a stop, his hands wrapped so tightly around the controls his knuckles turned white.  Why had Agravain sent him off to do this alone?  Aunt Morgan’s island was surrounded by merfolk infested waters.  They always got caught in a merfolk trap whenever they visited.  And these stupid traps _always_ required two people to get out of.  One to untangle the trap and the other to hold a gun.

“Is something wrong, sir?” Dinadan asked. 

“Something’s caught in the engines,” Mordred said.  He had a feeling that telling this droid about the merfolk traps would only aggravate the situation.  Now he just needed to warn the astromech without causing the BARD to panic.  “Run a diagnostic scan on the engines?”

AC-LN rolled to the stern.  Mordred grabbed a rifle and a pole and followed, Dinadan ambling after him.  The astromech took a moment to run its scan and then let loose a few quick buzzes.

“A trap!” Dinadan shrieked.  Mordred sighed.  “What do you mean we’re caught in a trap?”

“Can you handle a rifle?” Mordred asked, holding out the weapon to the BARD.

“Oh, no sir,” Dinadan said.  “It’s against my programming to handle weapons.”

“Consider yourself reprogrammed.”

“But sir—”

“Look, if I don’t get the engine cleared, the merfolk are going to tear holes in the hull until we sink.  They’ll eat me and put you both in their treasure trove.”  AC-LN gave a curt buzz and hovered in the air.  “Or at least they’ll do that to one of you.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Dinadan said, taking the rifle.  The droid held the weapon awkwardly and Mordred had to set the pole aside for a moment to correct Dinadan’s grip. 

Agravain.  When he got back to Tintagel he was going to kill Agravain. 

AC-LN flew over the edge of the boat and hovered just above the water.  All four of its arms extended down into the water and began pulling and cutting away the seaweed netting that had caught the engine.

“Be careful, AC,” Mordred said.  He lowered the pole into the water and worked on either lifting the seaweed netting out of the water and onto the boat or pushing it aside.  AC-LN let loose a string of buzzes and whistles.

“AC-LN says it can sense several merfolk beneath the ship,” Dinadan said, leaving Mordred to wonder why in the galaxy someone would program a droid’s voice to waver in fear like that.  He could understand why Dinadan would need it when telling his stories, but being able to utilize it in actual terror seemed overboard.  A droid being able to feel terror seemed overboard.

“Stand steady,” Mordred said.  “We’re almost done.”

Bubbles reached the surface and Mordred froze.  He was almost done—only a little bit of seaweed left to pull from the engine and they could be on their way again.  But the netting that was already out of the engine and the bubbles the merfolk were blowing made it impossible to see anything beneath the surface of the water.  The merfolk could be preparing to strike and he would never see it coming. 

“Sir—” Dinadan said.

“Shh,” Mordred hissed.  There was no way around it.  If he didn’t finish clearing the engine, they were dead.  The merfolk would sink the boat.  Slowly he eased more of the netting away from the engine as AC-LN continued to pull and cut the netting up.  Suddenly, the ship’s engine roared back to life.  Mordred’s shoulders sagged in relief. 

That was when a merfolk lunged out of the water, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled Mordred over the boat and down into the ocean.

He lost his grip on the pole the moment his body hit the water.  The next thing he lost was his sense of direction.  The world turned and spun around him and all he could see through the stinging salt water were bubbles.   The merfolk that had grabbed him kept a tight grip on his shoulders and he could feel more circling around him. 

There was a loud roar that Mordred could feel reverberate in his bones.  The merfolk scattered.  Free, Mordred kicked his legs and swung his arms around in a circular stroke.  The growing light above him proved to Mordred that he was going the right direction.  But what surprised him was how far away the surface was—the merfolk had pulled him down into the depths faster than he had realized.  His lungs were burning for air and the world around him was starting to grow fuzzy.  Worst of all, the surface didn’t seem to be growing any closer. 

Survival reflex finally kicked and his mouth broke open to gasp for air that wasn’t there.  Water flooded his lungs right as he broke through the surface.  Gasping and choking, Mordred treaded water, trying to get his bearings.  He knew that whatever scared off the merfolk couldn’t be far off.  It would either kill him or swim off—but if it swam off, the merfolk would soon be back.  He needed to get out of the water and back into his boat.  He needed to find his boat.

A warm hand grasp his arm firmly just under his armpit and started to lift him out of the water.  Mordred clasp his hands around the arm of the person lifting him and started kicking harder—trying to find some leverage to help his savior.  He figured that anywhere was better than the water right now.  Even if he was about to be kidnapped by one of the gangs.

His savior finally managed to lift him onto a boat and dropped him roughly onto the deck.  Mordred groaned as he hit the floor and then proceeded to cough up some more water.  He kept his eyes on the deck.  Whatever new trouble he was in, he didn’t want to know about it until the last bit had completely passed.

“And here I thought any nephew of mine was smart enough not to travel in these waters alone,” a woman said. 

Mordred looked up and grinned.  “Aunt Morgan,” he managed to say before being overtaken by another coughing fit.

“Steady, nephew,” Morgan said, kneeling on the deck next to him and running her hand up and down his back.  “You’re going to be fine.  Take your time and when you’re ready you can explain this act of stupidity to me in full detail.”

Mordred followed her advice, waiting until he could breathe normally before trying to talk again.  “It’s Agravain’s fault.”

“Oh, Agravain’s fault,” Morgan scoffed, getting to her feet.  She reached out a hand and helped Mordred up.  He took a moment to look around, not at all surprised to find himself on Morgan’s boat with his own floating a few yards away. 

“It is,” Mordred said.  “He was supposed to come with me, but at the last moment had me go alone.”

“Agravain?” Morgan asked.  “Agravain sent you out here on your own?  Agravain, the most sensible of all my sister’s sons?”  Mordred nodded, glad that Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth couldn’t see him agree to that.  “What possessed him to send you into these dangerous waters alone?”

“He didn’t give me a list of reasons,” Mordred said.  “He just told me to go and didn’t give me a chance to argue with him.”

“Then perhaps I should give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you had a good reason to venture into these waters,” Morgan said.  “Not that I don’t appreciate the visit, nephew, but there best be more to it than that.  Else my sister and I will need to have a conversation about what you’re learning in that fortress of hers.”

“The droids,” Mordred said, pointing to his boat.  Morgan turned to study the pair.  AC-LN rose up off the deck and let loose a series of buzzes and whistles.  Morgan stilled.  Not knowing what was going on, Mordred just started talking in hopes that his aunt would be able to derive meaning from what had occurred over the past day. 

“We purchased them yesterday from the gnomes.  I was cleaning the astromech when it spit out a message from Gaheris.  I guess he was here—in orbit.  The firefight two nights ago was his ship.  He was sent here to do something…  He was talking about a mission in the message, but it was stuck on repeat and I don’t know what that was.  When Aunt Morgause saw it, she ordered me and Agravain out of the room.  Later she told us to bring the droids to you.  I think she must have heard the whole message…”

He trailed off.  Aunt Morgan hadn’t moved.  Mordred tried to shift to see what she was staring at.  He thought her eyes were on the astromech, but she could also be watching the BARD, the water or the sky.  Unless he could see her face, there was no way for Mordred to know what her reaction to all this was.

Something knocked into the boat, sending it rocking.  Morgan stumbled and Mordred grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. 

“We should get off the water,” Morgan said.  She went over to the controls of her boat and brought it alongside Mordred’s.  He jumped over the side into his boat just as the astromech flew over into Morgan’s.  Mordred didn’t ask.  He assumed his aunt would explain in good time and right now, out on the water, the less said,the better.


	9. The Legends of Avalon

Although she had always been welcome at their home in Tintagel, for some reason Morgan had decided to live in a hermit’s hut on a small island that was made up more of sand than solid ground.  The most technologically advanced pieces of equipment in her home were the shields around the bay that could hold her boat and one other.  How she managed to so expertly navigate the merfolk infested waters that surrounded her home, Mordred didn’t know.  He also wasn’t sure how she managed to keep her home from being ransacked by Mark’s men or Ironside’s.  While the hut didn’t speak to any wealth, neither Ironside nor Mark looked favorable upon those who chose to live outside their influence.  Tintagel’s fortifications kept Morgause and her family safe.  What was it about this place that allowed Morgan the same pleasure?

Whatever it was, Mordred knew that he was as safe here as he had been at Tintagel.  That was why, after helping Morgan secure the boats and getting Dinadan onto land, he took the time to change into dry clothes before entering the hut.  He figured he owed it to his aunt to be respectful of what little she owned.

He just wished he had a pair of dry boots to go along with it.

“Mordred, come sit here,” Morgan said when he entered the hut.  He turned to find her sitting in front of a roaring fire pit. 

“Your clothes?” she asked as he took a seat next to her. 

“They’ll dry laying out on the boat,” he said.

Morgan reached out and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.  “Get your shoes off.  Do want a blanket?”

“I’m fine,” Mordred said as he dutifully kicked off his boots and shifted closer to the fire.  “Dry clothes and a fire work well enough for me.”

“You’d best truly mean that nephew and not be putting on a braver face,” Morgan said.  “Won’t do any of us a whit of good for you to come down with chills.”

Next to her, AC-LN chirped.  Morgan turned to it and ran her hand over its hull with the same gentleness one would stroke a pet. 

“Hello, Accolon,” Morgan said.  “It’s good to see you again, old friend.”

“Acco—you know this droid?”

“Oh, yes, we go way back,” Morgan said.  “All the way to the first separatist action of the Saxons.  In fact, it was this little droid who helped your father pilot the fighter that broke the blockade at Cameliard.”

Startled, Mordred found himself looking at the astromech in a new light.  He knew all about the blockade at Cameliard.  It was where Aunt Morgause always started when Mordred begged her to tell him stories about his father—the beginning of Sir Arthur Pendragon’s rise to greatness.  Not just as a Knight of Avalon, but as a force for good within the galaxy as a whole. 

He had heard the story from Aunt Morgause often enough, but never from Aunt Morgan.  Even though she had actually been at Cameliard while Aunt Morgause’s knowledge was only second hand, she’d always ignored his pleas for more information.  Now, after nearly twenty years, he finally had another source.  AC-LN hadn’t just been sent to them by Gaheris with a message.  It had known his father.  It had fought alongside his father and aunts during the war.  AC-LN carried within its memories a history of his family Mordred had long wanted to explore in more detail.  What could the AC unit tell him about his parents that no one else in his family could?

“I wish I had known him,” Mordred said softly.

“There’s still time,” Morgan said and Mordred started.  For a brief moment he allowed himself to hope, but then pushed the thought away.  He had known his whole life his father had died before he was born.  Nothing Aunt Morgan said would change that.

“Aunt Morgan,” he said carefully, trying to be delicate in case she—

“Oh, listen to you,” she chuckled.  “Trying to be careful around an old woman’s madness.  I can hear the pity in your voice and read your thoughts on your face.  ‘Poor Aunt Morgan, driven mad from living alone for so long.’  Not once do you consider the possibility that my dear sister has lied to you.”

“My father is dead,” Mordred said.

“No, he is not,” Morgan said.  “There are many, such as my sister, who believe he is as good as dead.  Who believe it would be foolish to make the push to rescue him—trapped as he is at the heart of the Empire.  But my brother lives.  I can feel it.”

“I—” His head was swimming.  He didn’t know what to make of what Morgan was telling him.  He had known all his life that his father was dead—that Arthur Pendragon had died a war hero.  How was he supposed to take the news that the people he cared about most in the world had spent his whole life lying to him?

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Come nephew, think,” Morgan said.  “Can you think of a moment in your young life where we were alone together?  Where my sister or your cousins weren’t watching you?  No, she guarded you well.  She wanted you to believe he was dead so you wouldn’t grow up with delusions of rescuing him.  So you would grow up to be as ruthless and cutthroat as her.”

‘Ruthless’ and ‘cutthroat’ weren’t words he would ever attribute to Aunt Morgause.  She was stern and unyielding, yes, but she was also warm and loving.  The sadness in her voice whenever she talked about his father…she never would have left him trapped within the Empire.  She wouldn’t have given up and written him off as dead so long as he was alive, right?

But then she had left Gaheris.  She had given up on her own son seemingly without a second thought. 

“Why keep him alive?” Mordred asked.  “He’s a war hero.  A symbol of hope within the rebellion.  If people were to learn he was still alive—”

“He lives because of you,” Morgan said. 

“Me?  What do I have to do with this?”

“An ancient prophecy of the Knights of Avalon.  One of the oldest, and the one we hold most dear.  Your father stands at the heart of it.  I’ve never known a man who so intuitively understood the Force.  The things your father could do nephew...it was how we knew that he was the one the prophecy spoke of.  He would be a leader the likes of which the Knights of Avalon had never seen before.  He would help restore the knights to their rightful place as peacekeepers of the galaxy and bring forth a new era of prosperity.”

Mordred shifted.  He knew all this—although it was strange to hear Aunt Morgan finally talk about his father.  Aunt Morgause had told him many stories about his father over the years.  He knew all about the Round Table—the alliance between the Knights of Avalon, world leaders and local heroes.  Under Arthur’s flagship, the Camelot, they had defended the galaxy against the early separatist actions by the Saxons and had formed the beginnings of the rebellion when the emperor’s power had become too great.  What he hadn’t know was that his father’s actions had stemmed from some prophecy.  But if that was the case...

“He failed,” Mordred said.  “The Emperor took complete control of the galaxy and the Round Table fell when my father—”

“Was captured,” Morgan said firmly. 

“If you’re right, he’s been held captive for nearly two decades,” Mordred said.  “The Round Table was active for five.  Not exactly the best record for a chosen one.”

“I sure that if he could escape his captivity, my brother would have done so long ago,” Morgan said.  “But he can’t.  He sleeps deep within the heart of the Empire.  That, nephew, is where you come in.”

“Let me guess, a second prophecy,” Mordred said. 

Morgan sniffed.  “It is truly a shame, nephew, that you weren’t left with me after your birth.  My sister never truly understood the Knights of Avalon.  To her the ways of the Order were nothing better than fairy stories.  She never understood the respect and reverence that we gave to the Lady of the Lake—how her word is sacred.  How she always speaks the truth of the future.  No, to you it’s just an old story.  One that has little bearing on your life when it is in fact your whole reason for being.”

Mordred bit his lip to keep from snapping back at her.  What did she know about Aunt Morgause or the way she had raised him?  Aunt Morgan had never played an active role in any of their lives.  They had seen her maybe once a year and always at Aunt Morgause’s insistence.  How dare she claim that she could have raised him better when she had never made any sort of effort to be a part of his life?

“So yes, nephew, there is a second prophecy,” Morgan said.  “Before your father’s capture, the Lady of the Lake foresaw his captivity and the fall of the Round Table.  She also foresaw you, nephew.  You alone have the power to wake the sleeping king from the power that binds him within the Empire.  You alone have the power to free your father and return him to his place of glory.”

“If that’s true, why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” Mordred asked.  “If I’m really the only one who can save him—if I’m the only one who can stop this war and bring about the end of the Empire, why did I grow up on this back-water planet at the edge of the galaxy?  Why didn’t I grow up within the rebellion?  That would have offered them the best chance of success.  So why am I just hearing this from you?  Why was I raised to believe my father was dead?”

“Because my sister wouldn’t allow it,” Morgan said.  “She wanted to raise you the same way she raised her sons—ignorant of the ways of Avalon and blind to your place among the forces shaping the galaxy.”

“You really expect me to believe an exiled queen holds enough sway within the rebellion to—”

“I don’t know what I expect you to believe at this juncture,” Morgan said.  “But my sister was a member of the Round Table and one of the early leaders within the rebellion.  She had exactly enough clout—especially in the early days—to disappear to the outer worlds with your mother and dictate your upbringing away from the rebellion’s influence.”

“My mother?” Mordred asked, his mind bypassing everything else Morgan had told him.  She knew his mother.  She could give him a name and tell him where to start looking.  “You know my mother?”

“I knew your mother,” Morgan said.  “She’s dead.”

“Aunt Morgause said she was still alive.”

“Well, it seems that for once I’m more up to date with the events of the galaxy than my sister is.”

“I see,” Mordred said, reaching for his boots.  It was time he got back to Tintagel.

“Nephew?”

“I need to get home,” Mordred said.  “They’ll be worried—”

“Home?  Haven’t you heard a word I said?” Morgan asked.  “You’re not going home.  You’re coming with me to join the rebellion.”  Mordred laughed.  “Why do you think they sent you out here all alone if you weren’t supposed to come with me?”

“I don’t know,” Mordred said.  “I don’t know what to think or what to make of any of this.  You say my mother is dead and my father is alive, Aunt Morgause says the opposite.  You say there’s a prophecy, Aunt Morgause never mentioned it.  You say I’m to go with you, just last night Aunt Morgause told me I needed to wait another year.”

“I’m sure my sister had her reasons for telling you that.”

“Well, she’s going to have to explain those reasons to me, because I’m going home.”

“You need to trust me.”

“I can’t right now,” Mordred said, finishing with his boots and getting to his feet.  “I’m sorry, Aunt Morgan, but I don’t know what to believe and I need to hear these words from another person.  I can’t just follow you on blind faith when you’re contradicting everything I’ve ever known.”  He turned away from her and headed towards the entrance of her hut.

“What if you heard it from Gaheris?” Morgan asked and Mordred froze.  “You said Accolon was carrying a message from him.  Would you like to hear the whole thing?”

Mordred turned around slowly.  Morgan held out a hand, beckoning him back to her side. 

“Come, nephew,” she said.  “Let us listen to Gaheris’ last message.”

Mordred took her hand and let her pull him back down to the ground.  She kept hold of his hand as AC-LN shifted so they could both see its holographic projection.  His chest tightened at the sight of the blue tinged projection.  It was the last image of Gaheris he would likely ever see. 

“Aunt Morgan,” Gaheris said.  “I’d hoped we’d have this conversation in person, but my ship has come under attack and I am unable to complete my mission.  It now falls to you to do what I could not.  First, and most pressing.  This astromech is carrying the schematics of the Empire’s newest space station.  The rebellion believes it is carrying a weapon that will allow the Emperor to disband the Senate.  You must see these plans safely into the hands of the rebellion. 

“Second...I’m sorry, Aunt Morgan.  The rebellion has searched, but you are the last Knight of Avalon.  You must take Mordred on as your squire if the prophecy is to be fulfilled.  I know it goes against the laws of Avalon for a knight and squire to share blood.  I wish that it hadn’t come to this, but if you don’t help us now, all is lost.”  Gaheris paused and looked over his shoulder.  “Message complete.”

The blue tinged projection disappeared.  Mordred swallowed, trying to come to terms with everything he’d just heard.  Gaheris had mentioned the prophecy.  Part of Gaheris’ mission had been to convince Aunt Morgan to take him on as a squire and train as a Knight of Avalon. 

Did that mean everything Aunt Morgan had said was true?

“I believe you have something for my nephew, Accolon,” Morgan said.  The droid buzzed and the door to a small compartment in its hull dropped open.  Morgan reached inside and pulled out two sword hilts.  It was simple metalwork with no embellished design along the pommel or crossguard.  The hilts looked sturdy enough, but then neither had a blade and Mordred wasn’t sure how he was supposed to judge them without one. 

After looking the hilts over, Morgan returned one to AC-LN’s compartment and passed the other to Mordred.

“The Caliburn blade,” she said in explanation as Mordred looked over the hilt, not sure what he was supposed to do with it.  Getting to her feet, Morgan continued to speak as she crossed the hut in search of something.  “The weapon of the Knights of Avalon.  Both were made for your hand, but that is a squire’s blade.  The other won’t do you any good until you’ve been knighted.”

Opening a cabinet, she removed a similar sword hilt.  She held it up for Mordred to see, then swung it through the air.  Mordred gasped at the sight before him.  Suddenly Morgan was holding a complete sword in her hand instead of just a hilt.  Even in the dim light of the hut, the blade shone brightly and the firelight seemed to dance across its polished surface.  Mordred was no expert in weaponry, but he doubted he would ever again see a finer blade in his lifetime. 

Glancing down at the hilt in his hand, he considered it nervously.  It hadn’t looked like Aunt Morgan had done all that much to turn her sword hilt into a complete weapon.  Any sudden movement could potentially call out the blade and Aunt Morgan’s sword looked like it could cut down to bone with very little effort.

“These swords are blessed by the power of Avalon,” Morgan said.  “Like Avalon, they exist between worlds.  The blade of your sword will only respond to your hand and will always come at your call.  Caliburn swords can cut through any solid material and deflect energy-based weaponry.  As with all things from the Otherworld, they come with consequences.  You cannot kill a person with a Caliburn blade, yet any wound dealt by one will never heal.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Mordred said. 

“They are,” Morgan said.  “As is a blaster if you don’t know how to use it.  But I assure you, nephew, there is no finer weapon in the galaxy than the Caliburn blade.  You will soon come to feel as though you are missing a part of yourself if you are ever without it.”

“How do I get the blade to appear?” Mordred asked.

“In time,” Morgan said.  “For now we must make our way to Cornasin to find a transport to Lothian.”

“Lothian?  I thought Gaheris wanted you to take AC-LN to the rebellion?”

“Yes.  No doubt that plan involved him giving us funds to purchase a ship and pilots to fly it.  Now we are without and must depend on a smuggler to get us off this planet.  It’s too dangerous to trust the location of the rebellion to one such as that.  We’ll go first to Lothian and find secure transport to the rebellion from there.”

Mordred could only watch in silence as she set about putting out the fire pit and packing some of her meager belongings into a small knapsack.  Then she was out the door without a word and Mordred and droids had no choice but to follow her.

“We’ll take both boats and sell them in Cornasin.  That should give us enough upfront money for a transport—”

“You can’t sell Aunt Morgause’s boat,” Mordred said. 

Morgan paused, mouth open as though she had been caught doing something wrong.  Face flushed, she shook her head.  “I told you, Mordred, Morgause sent you out here for the purpose of leaving the planet with me.  She understands the sacrifices that must be made for the sake of the rebellion.  You heard Gaheris.  I need to get these droids to the rebellion as soon as possible and you’re to come with me.”

Mordred shook his head.  “No.”

“No?  Weren’t you paying attention to Gaheris’ message?”

“His message doesn’t change anything,” Mordred said.  “Last night Aunt Morgause told me that if I leave Cornwall now, I do so without her blessing.  I know you think she didn’t mean it and wanted us to leave from here, but I need to hear that from her.  I can’t just risk disappearing into space without knowing that I have her blessing.  I can’t go off into the galaxy without her support.”

Morgan’s lips parted in a smile.  It was a smile filled with warmth and understanding, yet Mordred couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just barely containing her anger with him.  The next words she spoke, while they held no hint of malice or anger, did nothing to dissuade of him of this notion.

“You must do what you think is right, of course,” Morgan said with a nod before turning to the boats.  Mordred crossed his arms and suppressed a shiver.  He didn’t like this at all. 


	10. Fallen

It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, Ursus decided as he paced outside the chamber of Grand Moff Lucius Tiberius.  It tugged at his memory, trying to form into a coherent thought before dissipating into the nether every time he turned his mind to it. 

Ursus had long ago learned to ignore these mental ticks.  If it was important, the thought would come to him.  The Emperor would see to that.  If not, it wasn’t important and he knew better than to concern himself with things that weren’t important.  He was the Emperor’s man.  His blood hound.  It wasn’t Ursus’ place to allow himself to get distracted away from what the Emperor wanted.

But this one felt different.  It felt important and, more worrying, it felt like someone was trying to keep it from him.  Unlike the other itches which felt as though the knowledge was dancing just out of his reach and would come to him if he meditated long enough on the problem, this felt as though a wall had been erected between him and this piece of information.  One that he wouldn’t be able to break down no matter how hard he tried. 

“He’s done it,” Lucius Tiberius said as the door to his chamber whooshed open. 

“Sir?” Ursus asked as the itch faded from his mind.  Tiberius started down the hallways of the Death Star toward the war room, Ursus following at his heels.

“The Emperor disbanded the senate this morning.”

“As we knew he would,” Ursus said, trying to keep his contempt for Tiberius from seeping into his words. 

“As he said he would,” Tiberius said.  “You may think me a man of little faith, Lord Ursus, but I did not believe the Emperor would be able to do away with the last remnants of the old republic so easily.”

“I do not think you’re a man of little faith, Tiberius,” Ursus said.  “I think you’re a man of no faith.”

Tiberius laughed, and then continued on as though Ursus hadn’t spoken.  “I was certain they would fight.  My recommendation to the Emperor was that he wait until after the Death Star weapon was fully operational.  But he knew—that magnificent bastard.  He knew the worlds were cowed long ago.”

Ursus drew in a breath, barely able to keep himself from growling.  If Tiberius truly believed that the citizens of the Empire were cowed, he was more foolish that Ursus had thought.  They wouldn’t be cowed so long as the rebellion was still active.  All it would take was a spark—one high profile victory for the rebellion—and the regions would push back.  That was why the Empire couldn’t fire the Death Star weapon as a showing of force.  They needed the first and only firing to be the one that eradicated the rebellion.

The door to the war room whooshed open.  The occupants of the room fell silent as Tiberius and Ursus entered.  Commander Ladis had been the last one speaking, but he had abruptly cut his speech short at Tiberius’ entry.  Ursus wondered what he had been saying.  If there was anyone on this base he hated more than Tiberius, it was Ladis.  And he had the power to do something about Ladis, unlike his situation with Tiberius.

“Well, Commander Ladis?” Tiberius asked, making his way around the room to the head of the table.  “It’s not often a room goes silent as I enter.  It tends to make a man nervous.”

“I meant no disrespect, Grand Moff,” Ladis said.

“Yet without knowing which words you spoke, I’m finding it quite impossible to decide if they were disrespectful or not.”

“I was speaking of the rebellion,” Ladis said.  “And the rumors of their growing support within the Imperial Senate.”

“Oh, yes,” Tiberius said.  “Lord Ursus and I were just discussing this.  No need to fret on such things any further, Ladis.  The Emperor disbanded the senate this morning.  We have nothing more to fear from that outdated institution.”

“That’s impossible,” Ladis stammered.  “The Emperor will never be able to maintain control without the appearance of democracy.”

“He will.  With fear,” Admiral Meodras said from his place across the table.  “As I was telling you, Commander.  Fear of this battle station is all the Emperor needs.”

“And the rebellion?” Ladis asked.  “We may no longer need concern ourselves with their popularity in the senate, but that does nothing to diminish the threat they pose to the Empire.  Especially now with the technician who defected and the theft at Cologne.  If the rebellion has the technical plans for this station--”

“They do not possess the plans,” Ursus said.  “Not yet.  And I assure you they never will.”

“An attack on this station would be nothing more than useless heroics anyways,” Meodras said.  “Even if they had the plans, there’s nothing in there that will be able to help them.  The Death Star was designed to be invulnerable to their usual tricks.”

“Beware of your own hubris, Admiral,” Ursus said, feeling that itch in his mind return.  This was important.  Something about this conversation was important... something he should be seeing but wasn’t.  “The rebellion has long held ties to the Knights of Avalon and there is no technical marvel into is galaxy that is invincible against the power of the Force.”

Meodras scoffed and Ursus blinked, trying to clear his head.  Something important...something that he’d lost...

“The Knights of Avalon are dead and gone,” Meodras said.  “Frankly I find it disturbing that you continue to give reverence to that vanquished order.”

“There is no power in the galaxy stronger than the Force,” Ursus said.  “For all their flaws, the Knights of Avalon understood that and didn’t so foolishly believe that the hands of mortals could construct something stronger.”

“And what has this ancient power brought you, Lord Ursus?” Meodras asked.  “Certainly not the stolen technical plans.  This great power hasn’t forced Prince Gaheris to give up the location of the rebel base.  It hasn’t—”

The admiral broke off in his ravings and began pawing at his throat.  Ursus hadn’t even realized that he’d reached out with the Force, but now that his mind was firmly located around Meodras’ throat, he didn’t feel all that inclined to let it go.  The man deserved to suffer for his own arrogance and, more importantly, the itch in his mind had finally faded away.  So long as he was killing Meodras, he wouldn’t have to worry about what he’d forgotten.

And to think all his ire had been directed at Ladis when he’d entered the room.

“Ursus,” Tiberius said.  “Come on now, let him go.  Admirals of his standing don’t just grow on trees.  The Emperor won’t be pleased if he has to take time to replace another high ranking official.”

Growling, Ursus released Meodras’ throat.  The man collapsed onto the table, gasping for breath.  Mercifully, the itch didn’t return.  His will was the Emperor’s.  So long as he did his master’s bidding, he had no reason to fear hidden memories.

“As for the Admiral’s concerns,” Tiberius continued.  “Well...let’s just say that Prince Gaheris hasn’t yet had time to truly settle into his stay here.  But have no fear.  Lord Ursus will be seeing to his comfort in very short order.  By the time this station is fully operational, we will know the location of the rebel base.  After that, we’ll have no reason to fear the rebellion.  Whether they have the plans or not.”

* * *

They came across a crashed, burnt out whirligig when they were halfway to Tintagel.  Out of habit, both Mordred and Morgan brought their boats up alongside the whirligig—both to see if there was anyone still onboard in need of help and to scavenge the ship for anything valuable.  It wouldn’t be long before the merfolk sunk the ship to the ocean floor and all those residing on Cornwall knew to take what they could from the wreckage before it was gone forever. 

“I can’t believe this,” Mordred said, reaching out to run his fingers across the long claw marks that had ripped through the hull of the whirligig.  “Since when do the merfolk hit something this big?”

“They don’t,” Morgan said, but Mordred was too focused on the wreckage to hear her.

“How’d they catch it?  The gnomes know better than to fly their ships low to the water or land anywhere the merfolk can reach them.  And why not sink it?  Why would the merfolk just leave a ship on the surface like this?”

“Because it wasn’t them,” Morgan said, loud enough to finally catch Mordred’s attention.  He glanced at her as she pointed to the whirligig’ shattered power source.  “An energy weapon grounded the ship.  All this destruction was done afterwards.  So it would appear as though the gnomes were careless and the merfolk got the best of them.  But, as you point out, the merfolk would have sunk the ship.  And the bodies.  The merfolk wouldn’t let fresh meat go to waste—no matter how mutilated the bodies may be.  No.  Something else did this.  Whatever it was, it was large enough to scare off the merfolk not just for the slaughter itself, but for hours afterward.”

Mordred blinked, suddenly haunted by the image of an imperial Star Destroyer capturing that tiny transport vessel.  The transport vessel that Gaheris had been on.  Mordred blinked again and turned to look at the droids.  Was this the same whirligig that had sold the droids to them?  Did that mean...

Agravain.  Agravain’s strange behavior this morning as he told Mordred to go into merfolk infested waters all alone.  Aunt Morgause last night as she insisted they do nothing more than deliver the droids to Aunt Morgan.  Aunt Morgan herself when she told him they needed to go to Cornasin and tried to keep him from returning to Tintagel. 

They had sent him away.  They had sent him away because...

Mordred looked over the whirligig again, suddenly seeing it in a new light. 

They had sent him away because they knew this was going to happen.

He spun around to his boat’s controls and sent it roaring off across the oceans at a dangerous, merfolk attention grabbing speed.  He could hear Aunt Morgan and Dinadan shouting at him, but he blocked them out.  Just as he blocked out the terror that this speed on the water usually incited.  Aunt Morgan didn’t matter.  The merfolk didn’t matter.  All that mattered was getting back to Tintagel before the Empire found it.

Mordred knew long before he reached the fortress that he had arrived too late.  The shield was down.  That familiar shimmer in the air caused by light reflecting off the energy wasn’t there.  That alone told him he was too late.

Instinct told him to rush back up to the main level upon arriving.  Habit made him pause to secure the boat and bring the shield back up.  The longer it took the reach them, the colder he got inside.  Some part of him rationalized that this was a good thing.  If he was cold, then it wouldn’t hurt as much when he finally saw them. 

That part was wrong.  Reaching the main courtyard, Mordred stopped at the sight of them.  They were sprawled out across the ground—left where they had fallen after the imperial troops had gunned them down.  Frozen in the lift, Mordred could only stare at their discarded bodies trying to find...he didn’t even know what he was trying to find.  Certainly not life.  Their lives were long gone.  That much he could see from across the courtyard.

They just...looked so small.  Agravain had never looked small in his life and Aunt Morgause had always been imposing.  Now they looked inconsequential.  Like they had been thrown away.  They were two most important people in his life and the Empire had killed them as an afterthought. 

After what felt like hours, Mordred finally managed to lurch forward.  Then he was running across the courtyard.  He dropped to the ground next to Morgause, unable to even look at Agravain.  His cousin’s death was the far more painful of the two.  Mordred didn’t know why—maybe because deep down he knew that Agravain should have been standing beside him now, grieving with him, instead of lying dead on the ground.  Aunt Morgause had tried to send them both away, but Agravain had chosen to stay and die beside her.  

“Why?” he whispered, smoothing Morgause’s hair away from her face.  “I told you last night I couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.  Why would you sacrifice yourself like this?”

_“Sacrifices have to be made,”_ she had told him last night.  Now he realized she hadn’t just been talking about Gaheris.  She had been talking about the sacrifice she had been preparing to make to protect him. 

Tears began to roll down his cheeks and Mordred bit down hard on his lips to stifle the sob bubbling up in his chest.  He doubled over, fighting against a growing pressure in his chest that was threatening to rip him apart.  He couldn’t cry now—couldn’t give into despair.  There was work to be down and he was the only one who could do it. 

It took longer than Mordred would have liked for the pressure in his chest to ease.  Drawing in long, slow breaths to steady himself, Mordred wiped away his tears and looked to the sky.  The sun was setting.  He could only hope Morgan and the droids were safe wherever they were.  It was too late for him to go out on the water again. 

Besides, he had work that needed to be done here before he joined Morgan on her mission.

He spent the night working—building pyres for Aunt Morgause and Agravain.  He wouldn’t be able to set them aflame until right before he left.  There was too much risk or someone seeing the flames in the night sky or the smoke during the day and coming to investigate.  Mordred would have to light the pyres as soon as the sun rose and run.  He could have waited until later in the evening to start building, but he couldn’t bear the thought of his aunt and cousin laid out on the ground while he saw to his other chores.

Clothes.  Supplies.  He needed to make up a pack of essentials for this journey.  There was no telling when, or if, he’d be back to Tintagel and he couldn’t risk forgetting anything.  After grabbing a pack from one of the sheds, Mordred made his way to his room and stopped cold when he reached the threshold. 

It was empty.  As though it hadn’t been inhabited in years.  All of his belongings had been cleared out.  His bed had been stripped of its linen.  There was even a fine layer of dust on the desk and shelves.  How had Aunt Morgause managed all of this?  And in such a short amount of time?

Mordred shook his head, trying not to be upset.  He understood why his existence had been erased form Tintagel.  If Aunt Morgause was trying to convince the Imperial Stormtroopers that it was just her and Agravain, an extra room in use would have given away that someone was missing. 

Suddenly tired, Mordred made his way to Agravain’s room—hoping that some of his possessions had been moved to his cousin’s room instead of just thrown away.  Had Aunt Morgause suspected he would come back?  Mordred fervently wanted to believe she had and that somewhere in the fortress he would find one last message from her.  Now more than ever he needed her blessing.      

Searching through the shelves and drawers of Agarvain’s room, Mordred grew more and more disheartened when none of his belongings suddenly made an appearance.  Where could Aunt Morgause have hidden them?  He didn’t fancy turning all of Tintagel upside down in his search.  He was so tired that every movement felt like a feat of strength.  He just wanted to sleep—a moment of peace before he had to face the sunrise.

Opening Agravain’s closet, Mordred paused at the sight of a bulging pack leaning against the wall.  He grabbed the bag and pulled it open, knowing already that it was his.  Sure enough, the bag was filled with his clothes.  Not everything, but enough for several days of travel.

And there, lying at the very top of the bag, was the blessing he had been looking for.  Aunt Morgause’s Annwyn locket.  Sitting back on his heels, Mordred ran his finger over the edges of the locket.  He didn’t have one—too young to have had one made for him yet.  Technically it now fell on Aunt Morgan or Gawain to make him one while Aunt Morgause’s should burn along with her.  But she had left it for him.  She had put it in this pack along with what he would need for this journey with Aunt Morgan.  The locket was her blessing. 

Mordred pulled the chain over his head and let the locket drop against his chest.  Closing the bag back up, he carried it over to Agravain’s bed and dropped it at the foot.  Tucking a foot underneath the bag, Mordred curled up on the bed, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.


	11. Morgause’s Last Message

Morgan le Fay did not fear the waters of Cornwall.  She was a Knight of Avalon.  To her water was life, not death.  No creature of the deep would ever be a threat to her. 

Drawing her boat up along the wrecked whirligig, Morgan flipped a few quick switches on the control panel to ensure her safety for the night.  Pheromones released into the water, along with a touch of her own power to add to the illusion, would make it appear as though a massive aspidochelones had settled in the area.  The merfolk would steer clear of the whirligig and Morgan’s boat so long as they believed an aspidochelones rested beneath it.  She would be safe for the night.

“Ma’am?” the bard droid ventured once she had finished securing her boat to the whirligig.  “Surely you don’t intend to—”

Without looking, Morgan reached around the droid and powered it down.  Accolon buzzed at her.  Frowning, she turned to face the little AC unit.

“I would appreciate it if your partner here didn’t remember anything after we came upon the whirligig,” she said.  Almost sounding dejected, Accolon whistled in agreement.  Morgan knelt on the ground next to the droid.  “Alright, my pet.  Whatever message my dead sister left for the boy—no doubt with orders not to give it until after we had been separated by the rebellion—I need you to play it for me.”

Accolon buzzed and Morgan frowned.  “What do you mean she didn’t leave a message for him?  Did she leave a message at all?”  Accolon whistled an affirmative.  “What do you mean for...play it.”

The light of Accolon’s hologram projector flickered on and a miniature image of Morgause stood in front of her.

“Greetings, sister,” the message began.  Morgause paused and smiled to herself.  “No doubt you thought I’d forgotten that Accolon is beholden to you and you alone.”

Morgan closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.  She had thought—hoped—that Morgause had forgotten.  She wanted to see her sister’s hand.  She wanted to know what Morgause had planned for Mordred and how deep her influence ran in the boy.

“Fear not, Morgan,” Morgause continued.  “I haven’t told him anything.  All your secrets—all your machinations—are now safe from me.  Mordred won’t ever learn the truth from my lips.  It now falls to you to tell him, but of course you won’t.  It’s not part of your plan, is it?”

Morgan pressed her lips together.  Morgause was dead.  She could no longer pull on the strings of the galaxy as if it was a puppet she could play with.  No matter how confident Morgause sounded, all her work could easily be undone now. 

Remember, it is Mordred’s wellbeing that is your charge now,” Morgause said.  “‘Beware the wicked day of destiny, where father and son meet and know each other to be enemies.’  I fear that moment is fast approaching and you will need to be…delicate in your response.  It is up to you now.  Do not fail.  And may the Force be with you.”

The blue image of Morgause faded as her message ended and Accolon flipped off his projector.  Morgan sat back on her heels.  So this was Morgause’s last message to the world?  A concession of defeat?  A plea for discretion?  Morgan should have been pleased about this.  She had outlasted her sister.  The fate of the galaxy was now in her hands, not Morgause’s.

She should have been pleased.  And yet...

“Delete it,” Morgan said.  Accolon buzzed, having complied with her directive.  Morgan sighed.  Now Morgause was well and truly dead.

* * *

Gaheris was starting to go mad.

He didn’t know where he was and he didn’t know how long he’d been here.  From the brig on Ursus’s Star Destroyer, they’d traveled somewhere.  As a prisoner he wasn’t privy to their destination.  When they had finally arrived, Gaheris had been blindfolded and escorted to his current cell.  For all he knew, he could be in a different cell on the same damn Star Destroyer.  Or somewhere on Rome.  Or somewhere else entirely. 

The more he thought about it, the more he suspected he’d been transported to a military base on a planet under the Empire’s control.  The loud groaning sounds he heard in the middle of the night could only be a trash compactor.  Even a Star Destroyer wasn’t large enough to warrant its own trash compactor.  This had to be a base of some sort.  Something located away from any major city center and entirely self-sufficient. 

There was no escaping a place like this.  Gaheris had accepted that within hours of his arrival.  He just wished that Ursus or whoever was in command here would decide he had outlived his usefulness and end this already.  He wouldn’t be able to stand living in this tiny cell where the lights were always on and the trash compactor was his only measure of time for much longer.

He’d taken to pacing along the cell to just try and work out some of his nervous energy.  He could only manage about three steps at a time before he had to turn.  It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing—which was his alternative. 

He was in the middle of pacing across his cell when the door whooshed open.  Gaheris spun around as Ursus stepped into the doorway—his broad frame taking up almost the entirety of the cell door.  Gaheris swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.  Nothing good could come from a visit from Ursus.

“My demand to speak to the Senate Arms Committee still stands,” Gaheris said.

“There is no Senate—not anymore,” Ursus said.  Gaheris swallowed.  No senate?  How was that even possible?  “Even if the official report didn’t say that you died in the explosion that destroyed your ship, no one would be coming to help you.  You’re at the mercy of the Emperor.”

“Then I beg that of him,” Gaheris said.  “I don’t know what you expect to gain here, Lord Ursus.  I’m not a part of the rebellion and I know nothing of their strategy.  There’s nothing you can learn from me.”

“We shall see,” Ursus said, stepping aside. 

Gaheris stumbled back against the outcrop in the wall that served as a bed and a bench as a droid wheeled into his cell.  He sank down onto the outcrop, mentally trying to brace himself for what was to come.  He recognized this droid.  Devices of torture that the Emperor had long ago perfected against his prisoners.  Sometimes the Emperor had brought his captives onto the senate floor and let the droids work on them as an example.  A senate living in fear could barely act as any sort of check against the Emperor. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” Ursus said, stepping in behind the droid and letting the door whoosh shut behind him.  “Such as the location of the rebellion base.”

Hours later, Gaheris was stretched out across the floor of his cell, wishing that Ursus had just killed him.  His head was pounding and his stomach was doing flip flops.  He’d already thrown up twice during the torture.  The droid had kindly cleaned him and the cell after both incidents, but Gaheris didn’t think he would receive the same courtesy if he was sick again.  So he was writhing on the floor, legs pulled up against his chest, trying to hold it in.

His one consolation was that he hadn’t broke.  Of course, it wasn’t like there was much he could tell if he did break.  He didn’t actually know the location of the rebel base or how they intended to use plans they had stolen from the Empire.  But he did know about Morgan and Mordred—the last Knights of Avalon.  He knew who in the Lothian Court was loyal to the rebellion over the Empire.  He hadn’t let one word of it slip.  And he wouldn’t either.  Now that he’d survived one round of torture, he knew what to expect.  He’d be prepared next time.

Bile stared to rise in his throat and Gaheris clutched at his stomach, trying to hold it back.  Then there was warmth on his back, like someone pressing a hand between his shoulder blades.  His headache eased and his stomach quieted.  His breathing evened out and he started to drift off to sleep. 

The scent of spices was in the air.  He knew this aroma, but he couldn’t place it.  All he knew was that he suddenly felt safe, and loved. 

* * *

Mordred lit the pyres just as the sun started to rise.  The sunlight would mask the smoke and give him enough time to get away before anyone came to investigate.  The pyres were well built and self-contained.  Just because he couldn’t stay in Tintagel now didn’t mean he wouldn’t need the fortress in the future. 

He paused long enough after lighting the fires to bow his head in reverence.  Aunt Morgause and Agravain had given their lives for him.  The least he could do was take one last moment to thank them.  He had a feeling he wouldn’t get very many chances going forward.  Then, without a backward glance, he gathered up his stuff and took the lift down to the dock.  From there he took the boat out into the ocean, raising and locking Tintagel’s shield behind him.

He had no idea what had happened to Aunt Morgan or where she might have gone.  She should have followed him back to Tintagel.  That she hadn’t…maybe she had tried and something had happened?  He should have kept track of her instead of blindly racing back to Tintagel.  

She wouldn’t have gone back to her hermitage.  That was too dangerous.  If the Empire had managed to track the droid through the gnomes to Tintagel, they would eventually find their way to Morgan’s home as well.

No.  She couldn’t go home.  She wouldn’t go on without him either, right?  He was the chosen one or whatever—at least in her mind.  Her goal was to take him to the rebellion.  So it was safe to assume she was still on Cornwall somewhere.  But where?

Rather aimlessly, he returned to the site of the whirligig’ crash.  The wreckage would be long gone.  Either scattered by the waves or sunk by the merfolk.  Stupid to go back, really.  The surrounding waters would be infested with merfolk.  And yet…

It was almost like he was drawn to her location.  It wasn’t even in the same place as where he had left her.  And yet he’d known exactly where to find her.  That wasn’t even the most surprising part.  The wreckage was still whole.  The merfolk hadn’t sunk the whirligig.

“So is this the power of the Knights of Avalon?” Mordred asked, pulling his boat up alongside Morgan’s.  It had to have been her.  This Force power was the only way he could have possibly found her. 

“A small taste of it,” Morgan said.  “You’re family.  That makes it easier.”

“You must have known what was going to happen,” he said.

“Of course I did,” Morgan said.  “Even without the Force, it wouldn’t have been difficult to guess.  My sister and nephew never would have let you out on these waters alone under normal circumstances.  That they did told me all I needed to know.”

“You could have saved them,” Mordred said. 

“And risked your life in the process?” Morgan asked.  “They stayed behind so you could get away, Mordred.  To give you time to get to Cornasin and off this backwater rock.  And what have you done?  You’ve squandered their sacrifice.”

No.  That couldn’t be right.  Aunt Morgause had left her locket behind for him.  Mordred was barely able to keep himself from placing his hand over where it rested beneath his shirt.  Morgause, at least, had anticipated him returning to Tintagel.  He’d squandered nothing. 

“Perhaps if they had told me the truth instead of lying to me, we’d be gone by now,” Mordred said coldly.  He didn’t know why he hadn’t told Aunt Morgan the truth.  Deep down in his gut, he knew he couldn’t tell her about Aunt Morgause’s locket.  She’d disprove.

“Perhaps,” Morgan said, her voice equally as cold.  “Come along.  I managed to savage quite a bit off of the whirligig.  Hopefully we have enough to buy safe passage to Lothian.”

She powered on her boat and took off across the water at a speed that would only serve to attract merfolk attention.  Mordred followed her, matching her speed.  She’d kept her boat and the whirligig wreckage safe from the merfolk overnight.  The sea creatures weren’t worth fearing anymore. 

There was only the Empire.


End file.
